


Greedy

by equilateral_asshat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Multi, Pinecifica, Pinesifica, This thing is one long smutfest from beginning to end, pinecest - Freeform, pinescest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17018697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equilateral_asshat/pseuds/equilateral_asshat
Summary: The basic premise: what if some outside catalyst is what got the twins into one another? Like, say, a friend of theirs ended up turning them onto (or more onto) the idea of banging their sibling? What if that friend was a rich little blonde temptress that was unaware of what her actions would eventually cause?.Greedy seeks to answer these questions.





	1. June

_**=Pacifica=** _

For all she knew, it was the last Summer she would see them.

 _No more dragging your feet, Pacifica. Soon they’ll be off at college, you’ll be busy learning to handle family affairs_. She frowned, steepling her fingers. _But with time so short, how do I pick…?_

She couldn’t help it, she actually chuckled at herself.

_Ha! A Northwest, picking just one. Silly me! We always get everything we want…_

**_=Mabel & Dipper=_ **

“C’mon, Dipper! Drive faster, we’re almost there!”

“Mabel, if you hit me one more time, I’m going to drive this car into a ditch.” Fixing a level stare at his sister, he watched her cross her arms with a huff. “I’m not going to go over the speed limit. I never do unless it’s an emergency.”

“But Diiiippeeeerr…” she moaned. A cross frown was directed towards her. “Stan and Ford are actually back this year! I wanna spend every moment I can in Gravity Falls so we can all be together as a family again! Isn’t _that_ an emergency?!”

“Mabel, we’re only ten minutes away, just calm down!” This request was met with a playful punch on the shoulder. With a heavy sigh, Dipper tilted the steering wheel to the right. “Ditch, here we come.”

“Dipper no! No I didn’t even really hit you that hard!”

“The ditch is happening, Mabel! You were warned!” The car listed closer to the shoulder of the road. Mabel squealed and forced the wheel straight.

“Yer gonna get us killed!” she teased, blowing a raspberry at him.

“You were warned,” he repeated with a noncommittal shrug, grinning with defiance. She blew another raspberry at him.

“Yeah and you’re a poophead…”

===

Things fell into pattern pretty fast after they got to the Mystery Shack.

The first night there was a lot of chatter, and a lot of food. They caught up with their Grunkles, played peekaboo with Soos and Melody’s daughter, and pigged out on pizza. The next day, groups of tourists started arriving in droves to meet the original Mister Mystery, and the extra workload had Dipper and Mabel put straight to work in the gift shop.

Dipper ended up stocking shelves while Mabel worked the register, doing her best Wendy impersonation by sitting on a stool and reading magazines all day. And as much as he wanted to complain, that was all Wendy had ever done, so to disparage his sister for it would make him a hypocrite.

“You know, Mabel, these shelves would be stocked by now if you’d help out.”

Okay, so he was a hypocrite.

“Well yeah bro, but Soos told me to man the register, and all those shelves are _aaalllll_ the way out there, away from the register,” she droned in a halfhearted impersonation of their older, redheaded friend. “I’m just doin’ what the boss says while he helps Grunkle Stan out!”

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head. He turned his attention back to the box of snowglobes he was stocking. She merely grinned and playfully pointed finger-guns at him, making a clicking noise with her tongue and teeth.

The next minute or two went by with relative silence, which was interrupted when the bell above the door rang. Mabel glanced up from her magazine, then did a double take. Dipper muttered a “Welcome to the Mystery Shack,” as he stood up and went to put the rest of the snowglobes, still in the box, away. When he finally looked up, he also did a double take.

Long, silky blonde hair. Eyes as blue as the winter sky. A smile that, while friendly, still told everyone in the room that this person was better than them. Mabel grinned wide.

“Pacifica!” she exclaimed, leaping down from the stool to vault the counter and grab the blonde in a  friendly hug. “Oh my gosh how are you?! I haven’t heard from you since last summer, practically!”

Pacifica chuckled and shook her head, casting a desperate ‘please help’ look in Dipper’s direction as he approached the pair. He shook his head right back at her, smirking. Her eyes rolled with a ‘well what good are you?’ implied.

“Mabel, please, not so rough, Mabel this is a _silk shirt!_ ” she managed to laugh as she squirmed. Only then did Mabel release her hold. Dipper stood beside his sister, nodding at Pacifica once.

“What brings you to Gravity Falls’ favorite hovel, Miss Northwest?” he playfully jabbed. A perk of her brow and a smirk of her own crossed her features.

“Maybe I’m seeing if I can annex the property and have it torn down so I can build some stables for my horses,” she fired back. Dipper rolled his eyes, but playfully. She grabbed each twin in a one armed hug, squeezing gently. “I’m here to see my friends, you idiot.”

Mabel playfully gasped. “Pacifica has friends that aren’t upper-middle class at the very _least?!_ ” Pacifica quickly broke off the embrace with a frown, poking her tongue out at her. “Oh c’mon, Paz, you know I’m just joshin’ ya!”

There was a small bout of small talk that followed. What Pacifica had been doing, what the twins had planned for after graduation, that sort of thing. Eventually tourists started to filter into the gift shop, which broke up the small reunion as Mabel had to actually work the register now, leaving Dipper and Pacifica to talk privately.

“So, Dipper, tell me,” she mused. “Do you still hunt down spookums and the like?” The question was accented with a gentle hand on his shoulder. As he nodded, his eyes followed that dainty, graceful hand to the arm, and then shoulders, and that was when he noticed that her shirt had come slightly unbuttoned. Hadn’t it? There was only one button undone during the hug, he was certain of it. Now there were three undone, and whoa nelly that was a lot of Pacifica’s cleavage.

His eyes immediately snapped to a shelf where he was straightening stuff out. She tilted into his back as she talked in a low, husky voice.

“Because I’m starting to worry that some other spirit has taken up haunting my family’s new home. If you would come and help me make absolutely sure nothing’s haunting us I’d appreciate it so very much,” she continued.

“I, uh, well,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “I guess I could come give things the once over and make sure your parents haven’t attracted any other unwanted entities with their behavior. Might be a day or two though, with our Grunkles back the Shack is seeing a ton of business right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine, it’s nothing malicious yet. Just some wailing that echoes the halls at night,” she noted. He gave a small nod. “Great! Come over Friday once you’re done here?” He nodded again, swallowing around his tongue. “Excellent! I’m gonna go catch up with Mabel for a bit, see you Friday!”

Dipper could only nod a third and final time. He was very, very focused on the fact that those hats were out of order on the shelf. Not on the small beauty mark on Pacifica’s right breast, right near the apex of her cleavage. Not on how sultry her whisper had sounded. And certainly not on how her hips swayed as she stalked towards the counter to chit chat with his sister.

===

Mabel got the last of the tour group’s stragglers rang out with startling efficiency. As she was waving to them, she heard Pacifica cough politely to get her attention. She swiveled on the stool to face her.

“Waddup, Paz-ma-tazz?” she cheerfully asked. Pacifica’s face contorted into a displeased expression.

“First of all, never, _ever_ call me that again.” Mabel could only snort with a giggle. “Secondly, when my parents built our new home, I talked them into getting a certain garden feature installed.” She leaned over the counter, arms crossed under the swell of her breasts.

“O-oh, yeah?” Mabel stammered, eyes pointedly focusing on her friend’s face instead of those hooters. Either Paz was wearing one helluva pushup bra or the last year had been hella kind to her. When Pacifica’s mouth turned up at one side with a confident smirk, Mabel found herself mentally cataloguing the color of lipstick in her subconscious.

“Yeah, I got them to install a mini-golf course. Eighteen holes designed to challenge my top notch skills,” she continued, reaching out and picking up a hat from the counter. She turned it over in her hands, noting that it was almost exactly like Dipper’s before she slid it towards Mabel. The Pines girl punched a few buttons on the register.

“Neato,” she replied, now putting all of her effort into making sure she was ringing the hat up right, instead of avoiding Pacifica’s intense eyes. It still hadn’t even clicked that the Northwest’s sole heir had made to purchase a trucker’s hat, of all things.

“So I was wondering, since we never did get a proper finish that first summer, when you cheated,” Pacifica noted, handing Mabel a crisp $50 bill, “if you’d be down for a rematch where magical creatures aren’t trying to murder us?”

“Oh heck yeah!” Mabel exclaimed, frantically pushing change into Pacifica’s hand, followed by a  shopping bag with a hat in it. “You’re goin’ down fair and square this time!”

“Oh, we’ll see who _goes down_ ,” the blonde muttered just low enough so only Mabel could hear her. “Come to the house on Sunday, let’s say elevenish, for brunch first?” Mabel nodded dumbfoundedly. “Great! See you there, loser!”

Though Pacifica’s tone was playful, Mabel blew a raspberry at her. “Yeah whatever!”

After the bell chimed, Mabel busied herself with making sure that she hadn’t lost her place in her magazine. And not how short Pacifica’s skirt was, nope.

She risked a glance up at the same time as Dipper, both of them catching each other’s gaze before they each turned to look at the door. They managed to share a simultaneous thought, completely unaware of the other having it.

_Holy crap, Pacifica’s HOT._

**_=Pacifica=_ **

Was it actually that easy?! That she could just walk into the Mystery Shack, flash a little cleavage, put the right emphasis on her hips as she walked, keep her tone playful, and just shy of full on seductive, and both of the twins agreed to come to her house? Just like that?!

A peal of laughter escaped her as she stretched out over the seat in the back of the family limo.

Of course, she decided she must also have extreme luck. Not only did each twin agree to a date of sorts, they’d filled out themselves!

Dipper had toned up, and the overshirt he wore did little to disguise that fact. And the patch of fuzz on his chin? Oh if that had anything matching it elsewhere, she’d be beside herself with glee. Not only that, he had gotten a few inches taller! She couldn’t wait to watch him try to bust a ghost in a few days.

Mabel, on the other hand, had gotten curvier. Not even the sweaters she wore hid that anymore. Plus her braces were off now. Those teeth, when she grinned? Oh goodness, how did a girl that inhaled sugar like that have such _perfect white teeth?!_ It was almost unfair.

“Now then, Pacifica, control yourself,” she mused out loud, sitting up. “You have to play this as straight as you can!” She held her composure for all of three seconds, before bursting into another titter of laughter.

_This summer is going to be positively delightful!_

**_=Mabel & Dipper=_ **

“So Dip, whatcha gettin’ all your nerdy junk out for?”

Mabel was laying upside down on her brother’s bed, heels thumping against the wall with a lazy rhythm as she watched him pack a duffel bag full of random things. A few books, his leather bound notebook he catalogued paranormal and supernatural findings in (he never did quite get over his obsession with the Journals), as well as a few handheld, boxy gizmos with lights and meters. There was also a bell, a vial of salt, another vial of water he swore was sanctified and blessed, and a small silver mirror.

“Oh, Pacifica mentioned to me that she had a reason to suspect there was a haunting at their new mansion,” he replied, making sure to sound as disinterested as possible. “I figured for old time’s sake, I could go quash any fears she may have of any of that.”

“I see.”

Dipper’s head swung up to stare at Mabel; her voice was, by far, too incredulous. She sounded almost upset that he would be somewhere without her. Or, even more specifically, around Pacifica without her.

“And why, exactly, does that seem to irritate you?” he asked. Mabel immediately made a fart noise at him.

“It doesn’t, I just don’t see why she’d want a dork like you all alone to hunt down a ghost.”

“You mean exactly like she did several years ago, when we were just twelve and I was hired to get rid of a ghost that was much stronger than this alleged spook sounds?”

Mabel scowled. Curse her poophead brother for being so gosh danged smart. Why did he have to poke her argument full of more holes than stinky swiss cheese?

“Yeah well, she invited _me_ over for brunch, _and_ to play mini golf on Sunday, so I guess maybe that makes us even!” she retorted. Dipper stopped packing and stared blankly at Mabel.

“Wait, what?”

“‘Wait, what?’” she mocked, in a nasally impersonation of his voice. “Whaddaya mean ‘wait what’, Dipper?”

“Do…” he started, narrowing his eyes at his sister. “Do _you_ have a crush on Pacifica or something?”

Mabel sputtered, sitting up and swiveling around to make sure she could look away with a haughty huff. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

“Yeah what of it?! I’m allowed to have feelings for people. It’s the twenty first century!”

“If you’re afraid that me, Mister Captain-of-Failed-Relationships, is going to end up swooping in and getting Pacifica-rich, high society, snooty _Pacifica Northwest_ -to date me, you’re sorely mistaken. And if somehow I do, you can’t hold it against me because I’m _also_ allowed to have crushes on people.” He grinned in defiance at his sister. “Gender equality and all that rot.”

“So you’re saying we might be having a crush on the same girl?” Mabel mused. Dipper frowned thoughtfully.

“Wendy last summer all over again, huh?”

“Yeah we, uh… we don’t need to be fighting over the same person again.”

Dipper could only nod at that. It had been, well… Messy. Unpleasant. And of course, it ended up that Wendy wasn’t really interested in either of them. They had agreed to not speak of it in detail. Going through that again wouldn’t be fun at all. For either twin.

“Hey Dip?”

“Yeah?”

Mabel held her hand out at arm’s length.

“I’ll promise not to chase her if you don’t,” she said. He went to take her hand, then hesitated. “Hey, hey! I swear on Waddles’ life!”

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t realize it was _that_ serious of a thing but okay!” he laughed, taking his sister’s hand and shaking. “Deal.”

“Deal!”

_**=Dipper & Pacifica=** _

The new Northwest Manor wasn’t quite as large as the last one. But that didn’t make it any less impressive.

Apparently some careful investing, after losing nearly everything during Weirdmageddon, had paid off. It was a huge house. Easily fifteen rooms or so. There was also a sprawling garden, where Dipper could see the golf course his sister had mentioned briefly. When he knocked on the door, he was greeted by a butler in a suit.

“Hello, uh, Pacifica asked me to come over today and-”

“Yes, yes, very good Mister Pines,” the man said, ushering him inside. Immediately his eyes were drawn to a familiar carpet pattern. He smirked, remembering how he and Pacifica had destroyed the old one with mud, once upon a time.

“Oh! Dipper, you made it!” Pacifica’s voice rang out. He spun to face her, and could only blink.

She was wearing a pencil skirt that only came to her knees, a light purple shade with a slit up the side. Her blouse was white, and-he tried so very hard to _not_ notice-unbuttoned to the third button. Her hair was done up in a large bun that sat on the back of her head. Her eyeshadow and lipstick were both in the same color family as her skirt. Her stockings managed to vanish up under her skirt, but unfortunately the slit in the side made him very aware of the fact that she was indeed wearing a garter belt to hold them up.

“Yep! So, uh, any idea where the hauntings seem to be originating?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the blonde as she strutted her way over on heels, which clacked against the tiled floors until she hit the carpet. She wrapped her arm around one of his, while the other dug in his duffel bag to pull out a handheld device.

“This way,” she said, leading him towards another room. He stumbled a bit at first, but followed along.

She smelled sweet, he realized. Hints of vanilla, and strawberries, but there was also a citrusy sharpness to the scent. Trying to place it exactly was increasingly difficult, and-he noted-not vital to why he was here. There were ghosts to bust, and also, he made a deal with Mabel. He was not going to go back on that.

“Sometimes, you can hear the echoes of it-the ghost-wailing in here,” she noted. Dipper nodded, waving his ghost-o-meter device around, wearing an intense look of concentration. He wasn’t getting any readings, but then again ghosts were fickle about the whole ‘existing’ concept, more so than many other spectral beings.

“Well, I’m not getting anything here…” he grumbled, beginning to wander as he swept the device side to side, Pacifica quietly following along for a bit. Or, that’s how it looked to anybody not familiar with how she operated.

She would occasionally step to one side of him or the other at certain intersections of hallways, and he would instinctively turn the other direction. With very little effort at all, she began to herd him up the stairs. She had to bite her lower lip as his backside flexed with each step he climbed.

“Sometimes there’s noise coming through this hallway,” she noted, aiming him that direction. He merely nodded, still fully focused on the device in his hand. She almost started laughing.

_Oh my god if Mabel is as easy to control as her brother, I’m going to get laid four times a week!_

“Any particular room the noises come from?” he asked. She pointed ahead.

“There, the third room on the left!” she quipped. He nodded and walked through the doorway, hardly looking up for a second. Once he was through, she followed, quietly pulling the door shut behind her.

“How often do you hear these sounds?” The only answer he got was a very loud click. He recognized the sound of a door locking when he heard it. Without second thought, he lost all focus on the ghost hunt. “Pacifica, what was-”

She was on him immediately.

It was like watching a tiger pounce on a hapless six year old returning home from school. The impact launched both of them onto the nearby bed, where a brief struggle ended with her sat on his midsection, hands on his wrists.

“So, Dipper,” she said with a low, hushed voice. “I think that ‘the ghost’ might start wailing soon.” With a giggle she shimmied down his frame a bit as he squirmed.

“Pacifica, what the hell?! I mean, don’t get me wrong you’re hot as-” he began, but he was cut off by her lips on his. Oh god, she tasted as good as she smelled. His brain went fuzzy as it registered just how unbelievably soft her lips were. When she broke the kiss, he licked his lips to try and sneak another taste of her. She stared at him, eyebrow perked, and he frowned.

He was an _idiot_.

“There’s no ghost, is there.”

Her only answer was a smirk of victory. He sighed.

“Pacifica, I’m incredibly flattered, but I mean…. Well, you remember last year how Mabel and I fought over Wendy…?”

She nodded, but nipped at his neck. Without even thinking his head craned to the side, exposing more flesh, which she happily nibbled with a purr.

“Mmmmm hmmmm?”

“W-well, we both realized that we d-don’t want another-ah!-mess like that.” He writhed under her; how did somebody that seemed so small have so much power?! “S-so we kind of… agreed to not date you?”

She sat up, hands moving to her hips. He shrank back a bit, using a free hand to scratch absentmindedly at his shirt.

“So no dates, that’s what you’re saying?”

He nodded.

“But is this a date?”

“No, Pacifica, technically this is a ruse you put forth in order to trap me under you, in your bedroom.”

“Exactly! No deals being broken.”

He still didn’t feel like it was the get out of jail free card she was painting it to be. If he went through with this, he’d be a hypocrite.

“That’s just a loophole, though, Pacifica! If Mabel finds out we did anything-”

He regretted looking up immediately. Pacifica could pout even harder than his sister could. It was impossible to ignore; the quivering lip, the dewy eyes. The tremble of her chin.

Okay, so he was a hypocrite.

“Once,” he sighed. “And only once, understand?” He coughed into his hand as one of his legs bounced. “Just to, uh, get it out of our systems.”

Her expression shifted to predatory at the speed of sound as she dove back in, lips smothering his again. His hands found her shoulders, and soon the next minute or two was a blur.

Hot breath on his neck, words whispered against skin. Buttons being popped on his shirt. On her shirt. A lacy, white bra being unhooked as nails were dragged over his exposed chest.

The second her breasts were out in the open, and his eyes saw that beauty mark yet again, he knew he was doomed. He was a damned liar. A _HUGE_ hypocrite.

There would be no “just getting it out of his system”.

_I can never tell Mabel…_

The second her lips were on his again, his brain turned to mush. All thoughts were static as primal instinct took over, and his hands found her chest. She gasped happily, relishing the contrast of her smooth, pale skin against his rough, firm grasp. She pushed into the attention warmly, her own hands finding the fly of his jeans in short order.

He opened his mouth to say something-maybe protest, maybe just utter her name again-but the only sound that managed to come out was a loud hum against against her lips as she kissed him again. Hearing him talk wasn’t on her current set of plans. She was just here to get him out- _tug_ -of these- _zzzzzzzip_ -pants!

_Oh my goodness!_

“Oh, my goodness!”

The thought was echoed seconds later by her mouth as she stared at the front of his boxers. Oh, this whole plan just kept getting better and _better!_ She hooked her fingers in his waistband and slowly started to inch them down as she sat up on her knees. It seemed like no matter how far she pulled down, there was still more to see.

“Goodness, Dipper Pines, does the family name have anything to do with a similarity to redwoods?” she teased, running a thumb playfully along the underside of his member. His legs and stomach tensed, a hiss sucked through clenched teeth his only reply. She traced over the shape of him with two fingers, biting into her lower lip.

She was going to have _so much_ fun this summer!

Glancing up, her eyes met his and locked there. The look in her eyes alone made a shiver run down his spine; cold and predatory, but there was still fire behind them. She wasn’t going to make this easy at all, and he knew it.

She slid down, letting her breasts fall in his lap as fingers wrapped delicately around him and gave one slow, soft motion up, then squeezed gently on their way back down. Each stroke that followed was like this, and her eyes never left his. Her smile never faulted, and he swore to Time Baby she never once appeared to blink.

“So, Dipper,” she purred, face inching closer to his flesh. Oh god he could feel her breath, it was so warm. Her lips pressed against him so softly he wouldn’t have felt it, if not for how hot her lips actually were. She trailed those kisses up along his skin, staring him in the eye the whole time. He felt like if he even tried to blink he’d miss it. This was a sight he _never_ wanted to forget.

“U-uh huh?” he stammered. Pacifica grinned at him as she let her mouth hang open, tongue darting out to swirl around his crown once, twice, three times.

“I promise not to tell Mabel, if you don’t, deal?”

It didn’t help his guilt much, but he knew that Pacifica’s deals were something she never backed down on. If she swore revenge, she got it. If she swore not to do something, she wouldn’t. He realized this was it, the point of no return. Her mouth hung open against the tip of his member, a long, exhaled moan caused him to shudder.

He should just say no, he should fight his stupid lizard-brain instincts and just pull his pants back up, forget the sight of those plump, flower-soft lips hanging in the air directly over his-

“D-deal.”

 _Dipper, no!_ he thought. Her head bobbed down, pulled back up, then slid down, down, down until he felt her nose brush against a trail of fuzz that ran down from his bellybutton.

 _Oh fuck_ , his inner voice went as he watched his manhood vanish into the blonde’s mouth. _Nevermind, Dipper yes. Dipper very yes_.

Up she came, then back down again, over and over, the motion fluid and graceful. It appeared that even in the bedroom, a Northwest lady was a creature of elegance! He fell back onto the bed again, his brain tingling as the back of her throat sent shivers through his frame.

“G-gods, Pacifica, I don’t think I’ll l-last long at this raAATE!” he whimpered, pitch rising to a yelp as she swiftly pulled away, then clamped a thumb and forefinger around the base of his spire.

“Don’t you dare,” she ordered. “I’m not nearly through with you.” With a giggle, and a kiss to the tip of his dick, she murmured against the skin, “nor with you, big guy.”

Dipper threw an arm over his eyes, trying to think about anything to help him last longer. The smell of the Manotaur’s Man Cave. The way his Grunkle Stan scratched himself in public. Anything over than the velvety soft mouth of Pacifica Northwest, running along the side of his dick as she giggled and hummed a little tune to herself.

“What’s the matter, Pines?” she mused aloud. “You look like you might need something to occupy your mind.” He felt her pull away, and as he moved his arm to see what she was up to, he was met with the vision of one of the shapeliest asses to ever exist.Two things became very apparent, very fast.

Firstly, she had the disrobing skills of a ninja. He never recalled her taking her skirt off.

Secondly, either genetics in the Northwest family were top tier, or she had a rigorous exercise routine because that butt was sculpted from the finest marble, and-

It was on his face. Good god he had Pacifica’s ass planted directly on his face. She shimmied and wriggled until she felt comfortable, her womanhood smothering his mouth as she stretched out overtop him. Fingernails traced little trails through the light layer of belly hair he was sporting, until he felt fingers grip around him yet again.

“Now then, you’ll get to breathe again when I decide you’re doing a-” she began, but his tongue slathered out and ran along her cleft, eliciting a gasp and high pitched moan. “Good job!”

The words were practically drooled. His brain buzzed with activity as he tried to process what was happening, and if it really was. His body seemed to know what to do, hands lifting to grasp at her hips, which she gave a roll, his tongue chasing her muff as it moved this way and that.

 _My god, I need to play catch up and get this situation back under control,_ she managed to think, leaning further and letting her tongue lash out against his leaking tip. He audibly groaned into her backside, and she giggled as she gave him an encouraging wiggle.

That movement, however, gave him an advantage in position, and his tongue furiously lashed against her in just the right way. Her thighs locked against the sides of his jaw and she sat back up, a quick storm of curses escaping her throat.

“Oh fuck, fuck fuck _fuckfuck **FUCK!**_ ”

Dipper quickly learned that Pacifica was a screamer. Had it not been for her legs firmly grasping the sides of his head, he was certain he’d be half deaf.

===

A maid, and the butler who met Dipper at the door, were making small talk as they cleaned through the upstairs hallways. They discussed the day, things they saw around the mansion.

“I’m still positive that sometimes I see the lawn gnomes in different spots when I look out the windows,” the maid muttered. The butler quirked a brow.

“We don’t have any lawn gnomes on the grounds,  Mrs. Priscilla detests the kitschy little things.”

“But I’ve seen them! Their little red hats, and-”

The conversation was interrupted by a high pitched, keening wail that echoed through the halls, dying out as fast as it had started. The two glanced at one another.

“Did Miss Pacifica bring that Pines boy up here?” the maid asked. The butler merely nodded.

“Something about a ghost hunt!” he confirmed. The maid lifted one eyebrow. “It sounds to me as though they’ve roused the spirit from its rest, eh?”

She snorted, nodding with a knowing grin.

“Of course, of course,” she chuckled. “A _ghost…_ ”

===

Light! Dipper could see light again!

His blurred, but now unobscured vision gave him a chance to see Pacifica wheel herself about, before smashing her mouth into his. Her tongue met his with fervor, moving constantly, breaking the kiss only to reach between the two of them. He felt fingers against his saliva-slick skin, maneuvering him about until warmth between her legs rubbed against his crown.

“Paz wait, what about-” he started, hoping to say something about protection, but her hips moved once and he was inside her. They both let out a moan, her face buried in his neck, his in her hair.

_And I thought her mouth was heaven…_

Her hips gave a languid roll to his, and then another, and another still, rocking against his thighs. He ran his fingernails up her legs, from knee to hip, and she let out a chorus of happy, bubbling giggles. Then, her hips lifted, before slamming back down.

_WHAP._

Dipper’s vision went fuzzy for a moment.

_WHAP._

Pacifica’s teeth latched onto his shoulder.

_WHAP!_

His hands found her ass and groped roughly, as if he was trying to dig for traction against the assault she was raining into his lap.

_**WHAP.** _

“Paz holy shit, if you don’t slow down I’mnotgunnalast,” he managed to groan through a clenched jaw. She growled a low laugh against his skin.

_**WHAP. WHAP. WHAP.** _

“Good.”

Something about the air of assured victory in her tone made everything behind his eyelids turn into stars. His hips lifted to meet hers, and with a low, strained groan he felt himself launch over the edge.

Pacifica cooed against his neck as she felt him erupt. In fact, it seemed to be the only thing that calmed her down. Her body rocked against his as he came, and every little movement she made caused him to twitch or gasp under her.

“See, was that so bad?” she commented, pinching his cheeks together to force his lips into an exaggerated kissy face. With a pleased grin, she planted a kiss on them. He shivered.

_Mabel is going to kill me…_

**_=Mabel and Pacifica=_ **

Dipper assured Mabel that there were, indeed, no ghosts in the New Northwest Manor. He had done a thorough sweep and found nothing, putting Pacifica’s mind at ease.

So if that were true, then why, as she sat out on the veranda, at a long, glass-topped table with Pacifica, did she hear one of the butlers say something about ghostly wails? Was her brother not giving her juicy details about ghost bustin’ again? He still never gave her the full story about the first haunting. She pushed piece of waffle around on her plate thoughtfully.

“Enjoying the meal?” Pacifica asked. It was one of the first things she had said that wasn’t snide or cutting since Mabel arrived. Sure, she knew it was all playful, but gosh Pacifica made it difficult to not wanna whip her smug, curvy, rich patoot at mini golf so hard she’d cry and let expensive mascara run down those perfectly angled cheekbones, and-

_Mabel, you’re gonna take the longest, coldest shower after this game is over._

“Well yeah, this is my third plate of waffles, duh doi,” she admitted. Pacifica could only shake her head at the Pines girl.

“Where do you even put it all?! You’re a bottomless pit,” she joked. Mabel shook her head.

“Nuh uh! That’s at the shack. Grunkle Stan throws incriminating evidence in it.”

“O… kay?” Pacifica’s brow was furrowed with confusion. Mabel shrugged and offered little more explanation. “Moving on.”

Mabel perked up a bit, listening expectantly.

“Get your ball and your club, and meet me out in the side garden in a few minutes,” Pacifica insisted. “You’re about to lose a round of mini golf!”

“Oh it’s on!” Mabel laughed, jumping up and jogging back to get her things from inside the house. Pacifica watched her run out of sight before she stood up, grinning smugly to herself.

_Time to set this ball rolling._

===

Mabel scampered out into the side garden with a competitive spirit fueling her energy. She was wearing her lucky golfing sweater-the one with a golf green and flag on the front-tied around her waist. Her orange and purple striped polo shirt was almost annoyingly garish, as golf-wear was wont to be. Her bright pink skirt was nearly as loud as her laughter.

On top of that, she had her lucky pink ball, and her favorite golf club that she may have slightly customized to look like a flamingo, when she went on an ‘ _Alice in Wonderland_ ’ kick. Pacifica was going to be eating the glitter in her wake!

As she stepped out and saw the course, her eyes went wide.

“Holy moly,” she gasped. This was mini golf nirvana!

The first hole was a series of long, lazy S-curves with ramps at the outer edge of each curve. A small stream flowed alongside it, with koi happily bubbling along. Bamboo ran along the sides of that stream. Of course, none of that seemed to compare to the girl standing at the tee box.

Hair pulled back in a ponytail, a pink visor kept the sunlight’s glare out of Paz’s ice blue eyes. Her eyeliner was a lavender shade, blended exquisitely. Her lips shone with a light shine of colorless lip gloss.

The polo she wore was a pastel shade of pink, with a small dolphin embroidered under the collar. It wasn’t very low cut, but boy oh boy did it hug her frame so Mabel could see loads of details! And those pure white shorts were almost dangerously short. Another fraction of an inch and she’d be able to see butt cheeks. It was almost a shame they weren’t shorter, in fact.

_Mabel, MABEL. COLD. SHOWER._

“So, what’s the par on this baby?” Mabel asked playfully as she stretched out. Pacifica grinned, brimming with confidence.

“This is a par three,” she noted flatly, setting a light blue ball down on the tee, then casually lining her club up against it and giving it a short, sharp whack. The ball zipped down the course with laser precision, then lipped around the cup, did a dizzy little twirl, and plopped into the inviting opening. Pacifica shot Mabel a bored look. “I don’t need that many shots, though.”

Mabel stared, mouth agape. That was almost cheating, now! Pacifica could not be that good at this course, it wasn’t allowed! Even if it was hers, on her family’s land. It wasn’t fair!

“Alright, you think you’re gonna fool me with that ‘oh no I’m Paz and I’m so good at putt putt that I won’t even be giddy about a hole in one’ routine, you’ve got another thing comin’!”

Mabel sat her ball down and lined her shot up, concentrating as her tongue poked through her lips. In her mind, she was going through a bunch of mental calculations that, if her brother knew about, he would say she had applied algebra to something in her life outside of math classes. Having none of that, she used animal emojis in her mental math, because there were no turtles or cats in algebra, after all!

“Any day now, Mabel, while we’re still young,” the blonde teased. Blowing a quick raspberry her way, Mabel gave the hole one last look, wiggled her backside, pulled back her club, and gave the ball a firm strike.

At first it seemed she had overcompensated. The ball skipped along the astroturf instead of rolling, and smacked into the wall at the apex of the first curve, ricocheting into the air. Before Pacifica could even formulate a snarky comment, though, the ball careened back down onto the fake grass, bouncing once, twice, and then clattering into the plastic cup with precision.

“HA! One to one!” Mabel cried, pumping her golf club in the air victoriously,and then waggling her eyebrows at the blonde. Pacifica sniffed, head lifting in a haughty, playfully derisive manner.

“Beginner’s luck, and nothing more.” However, deep down, her mind was replaying Mabel’s wiggling posterior.

_Even if she plays mini golf half as good as she wiggles that butt of hers, this game still might not make it to eighteen holes!_

===

The next few holes had pretty much the same story. Each beautifully designed, and bordered by fantastic landscaping. At each hole, Pacifica would calmly, cleanly sink the ball as though it was a straight line from tee to green. Mabel would smack her ball, and it would shoot off, bounce erratically, and then somehow tumble into the cup with a little spin.

They were ten holes in, all tied up, when Pacifica had been pushed to the edge of her breaking point. It had been ten holes of Mabel’s little victorious booty dances. Ten holes of shimmies and wiggles and made up songs, sang in a melodious, if not somewhat nasal tone.

“So, Mabel, what do you say we make this a bit more, oh, interesting?” she suggested as the walked from the cup on hole ten to the tee box of hole eleven. A windmill, one of the true putt putt classics, sat squarely in the center of the course, it’s blades lazily spinning. The major difference was this thing was huge. It could have easily been a small shed.

“Howzat, Paz?” Mabel chimed in. “Think making a bet will make me lose my cool and change the fact that you’re not gonna beat me in a fair fight?”

“Whoever does worse on this hole,” Pacifica continued, unperturbed by Mabel’s snappy comment. “Has to show the loser the underwear they have on.”

Mabel almost wished she had a bottle of water. At least if she’d been drinking, she could do a spit take.

“What the what?! What?! Pacifica, _what?!_ ” She was certain her face was as red as it had ever been. “No way, heck no, nuh-”

“Afraid you’ll have to show me yours?” Pacifica’s grin was defiant. It was like she had already won, and now if Mabel declined she’d look like a coward.

“No, that’s just, like, hella lewd, girl. What’s gotten into you?!”

 _Your brother_ , was all Pacifica could think, but she bit her tongue for a second.

“Don’t play like you aren’t the slightest bit curious about what I have on under here,” she suggested. Mabel refused to look her in the eye. “I saw you admiring me back on the first hole, and I’m pretty sure you were noticing more than the brand label on the back pocket.”

“There’s no brand label on-” Mabel started, before clamping a hand over her mouth. _Shit, SHIT Mabel!_

“Oh ho! See?! You _do_ want to see what I could possibly have on under these,” she giggled. “So come on, loser shows the winner the goods?”

“Pffff, fine! You wanna try and prove somethin’, it’s a bet! Now give that ball a smack!” Mabel demanded.

“Okay!”

Pacifica sat her ball down in the teebox, lined up her shot, then stood and counted as the windmill spun. Without even watching her stroke, she gave the ball a firm tap and away it went. Mabel felt every bit of blood that rushed to her face suddenly draining as she went pale. Oh no, oh no oh no.

As though Pacifica’s ball had been trained, it wobbled merrily through a gap in the blades and under the windmill. She turned to Mabel, grinning happily.

“I didn’t hear it hit the hole so wipe that smug grin off yer face,” Mabel groused, stepping up to line her shot. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity as she watched the blades spin. They moved a lot faster than they appeared to be, or maybe that was just the impending fear of having to flash her undies at her friend, that she was totally not supposed to be doing that sort of thing with. She’d promised Dipper!

With a deep breath, she pulled back her club, and gave her ball a firm, but gentle tap. It rolled swiftly, but carefully towards the windmill.

One of the blades was swinging down into the path.

Mabel actually felt herself sweating, and as she chewed on her lower lip, a brief, somewhat amusing thought crossed her mind.

_Is this the sort of thing that Dipper thinks of when a cute girl makes him sweat, that she might see his undies before he’s ready?_

The ball got closer to the windmill, and the blade was swinging into its path. Mabel’s heart pounded in her chest.

_No no no n-_

At the last second, the blade swooped up out of the way, and the ball rolled through. Mabel exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath.

“Oh thank goodness,” she whispered, following Paz back behind the structure to find their balls each sitting on the green surface. Mabel’s was just beyond the windmill’s back wall, but Pacifica’s was a mere inch from the hole. Mabel frowned.

Pacifica caught her gaze, locked eyes, and with a satisfied smirk, gave her ball an abrupt, short tap that sent it into the cup.

“Alright, Mabel, you’re up!” she declared in a sing song voice. Mabel could only groan as she tried to line things up, concentrating with all of her might. With a deep breath, she steeled her nerves, and took her stroke.

The ball whizzed towards the hole at high speed, and then fell in with a very satisfying clunk. Mabel was about to exhale with relief, but then realized she had hit too hard as the ball bounced back out.

“No no no! NO!” she wailed, clawing at her own hair. Pacifica’s mirth filled laughter perfectly opposed Mabel’s sounds of frustration.

“Well Mabel, a deal’s a deal!” Pacifica said with anticipation. “Let’s see those panties!”

“No way!” she fumed. “You had to have cheated somehow!” She marched over towards the hole to prove a point, to expose the spring, or small trained gopher that Pacifica had hiding there. But, nothing. Like every other hole, this one was just a plastic cup stuck in the ground. “But-”

“Now now, no going back on that deal,” Pacifica insisted, taking Mabel by the wrist and tugging her towards the windmill. “Let’s just get a bit of privacy for this, shall we?”

With a gentle nudge, a panel on the back of the obstacle swung open, and Pacifica had Mabel pulled inside before shutting the door. There was a pair of beanbag chairs set up, as well as a mini-fridge plugged into an outlet. Mabel gawked at the hidden hideaway.

“What kinda delinquent set up do you have in here, Paz?” she wondered aloud. Pacifica opened the fridge and retrieved a wine cooler, which she twisted open and took a sip of as she sat in one of the beanbags.

“The kind where I get to see my friend’s underwear because she lost a bet,” she mused, taking another swig. Mabel flushed crimson and pawed at the edge of her skirt. “Oh, come on, you’re a cute girl with a lovely sense of color,” she encouraged.

“F-fine!” Mabel exclaimed, lifting her skirt for all of half a second, then lowering it again. Pacifica frowned. “You saw them, let’s go finish our round.”

“I barely saw a thing,” she said matter of factly, taking one last drink before standing back up and stepping towards Mabel. The Pines girl worried the edge of her skirt with her fingers some more. “You act like I’m going to go shouting what you’re wearing from the rooftops, or snap blackmail photos. But I promise you,” she noted, “this is _aaalll_ for me.”

Mabel hemmed and hawed, sucking on her lower lip as she wrestled with the ramifications of this. She and Dipper had sworn to not pursue this. They weren’t gonna go after Paz, they just _weren’t_. Showing Paz her undies felt like that first step onto a slippery slope that would end in them being sweaty and naked in this windmill. And if that happened, she’d be a dirty liar. Not to mention, she had sworn on Waddles’ _life_. She felt horrible having to be that serious about it when now she was being coerced into this.

“You… you promise nobody’ll know you saw my britches?” she asked. Pacifica nodded.

“Mabel I promise, nobody is going to know what you have on under there, but you and me.”

With a deep breath, Mabel grasped the edge of her skirt and lifted.

“Oooohh, purple and polka dots suit you well, but…” Pacifica said. Mabel felt her face burning. “What do they look like…” she mused, stepping behind her. “Back here?”

Mabel squeaked as she felt the back edge of her skirt flare up in Pacifica’s grasp. Oh geeze, did her friend notice how tightly her legs were clamped together? What would she say if she knew that Mabel was getting a bit warm down under?

A pleased whistle escaped Pacifica’s lips. “Absolutely wonderful.”

“Why thank y-EEK!”

Mabel’s moment of polite reply was interrupted by a hand playfully cupping her backside and squeezing. A pair of lips nipped at her ear, and she felt her resolve weaken even further.

“The panties don’t look half bad, either,” Pacifica finished. Mabel quickly stepped away.

“Pacifica, I-I can’t do this,” she mumbled. She wanted to, yeah, oh man did she want to! “I mean, you’re totally hot and holy cow I didn’t think mini golf could be this sexually tense, but, Dipper and I might have, uh, made a deal about certain actions involving our… involvement, with you.”

Pacifica backed up a bit, lifting a finger to her mouth in thought.

“You mean like the thing with the Corduroy girl, last summer?”

“ _Exactly_ like that, oh my gosh! We can’t be fighting over the same girl again!” Mabel felt an exasperated rush of relief wash over her, until she noticed Pacifica’s smirk. “Wuzzat look for?”

“Well, I already promised not to tell anyone about me getting a glimpse at your panties-super cute, by the way!-so why would I tell anybody about any of the rest of it?”

Mabel frowned, scuffling a foot along the floor.

“Well, I mean, Dip’n’me had a deal…” she mumbled. Pacifica nodded.

“What if I went ahead and showed you what I have on under my shorts?”

“Bwuh?”

Pacifica giggled at the dumbfounded reaction. The twins both seemed to be so easy to distract, almost to a fault. She popped the button on her shorts loose, followed by the zipper.

“Oh, by the way, I did kind of cheat,” she admitted as her thumbs hooked into her waistband. Mabel gave her a very confused look, and she merely shot her a wink before pushing the white fabric down. “After all, _I’m_ not wearing _any_ panties.”

_Don’t look, Mabel, oh gosh don’t look. Do not watch her tug that waistband off of those hips, Mabel. Stop watching the shorts inch down. Do not acknowledge that tiny blonde arrow and ohmygod she was serious, she’s goin’ commando._

Those were certainly Pacifica’s ladybits that Mabel couldn’t wrench her eyes away from. Oh gosh, how did she get out of this? How did Pacifica keep that arrow so perfectly shaped, and her skin looking so soft, and-NO. Mabel wasn’t going to focus on the lewd details, she just wasn’t.

“See? The world isn’t ending. The sky isn’t on fire, and I’m absolutely certain Waddles is fine,” she heard Pacifica say. Her eyes followed the shorts as they were kicked across the interior of the windmill. “Phew, awfully hot in here though. Aren’t you sweltering under all that?”

“N-no,” Mabel quickly fibbed. Too quickly. She was indeed sweltering, as Pacifica had pointed out, but she wasn’t sure how much of that was the temperature in the windowless structure, and how much of it was the fact that Pacifica Northwest’s vagoober was right there where she could see it, with a thin layer, a trace of moisture playing along the girl’s inner thighs.

“Oh come on, Mabel,” Pacifica mewled as she grabbed the Pines twin in a loose hug. Mabel felt her resolve weakening bit by bit, very quickly. She really wanted to go back on her word, but she also _didn’t_ want to go back on her word at the same time. Otherwise she’d be a, what did Dipper always say that word was? A hip… hippo…

A hypocrite?

She had barely processed that when she realized there were fingers in waistbands of her skirt and panties, and a slow, gentle pull downwards. A shudder ran through her as she felt perfectly manicured fingernails graze over her thighs, the sound of fabric hitting the floor accompanied by a squeaky whimper.

_Oh god, I can never tell Dipper…_

“Goodness me,” Pacifica whispered in Mabel’s ear. “You’re positively dripping.”

Mabel’s thighs pressed together as tightly as they could manage, but Pacifica’s fingers still found their way between them, meeting next to no resistance. The brunette gasped as the tip of an index finger traced over her nethers.

“I-it’s n-not that wet,” she murmured. Pacifica chuckled in her ear.

“Literally sopping,” the blonde swiftly replied. With a hooked finger, she gave Mabel’s button a playful nudge. “Now then, a competitive girl can only wonder…”

Mabel hummed in acknowledgement, voice gone as she panted heavily, one hand braced against the wall.

“How many strokes does it take to finish this course?”

“Really?!” Mabel spat with a laugh, turning her head. “You’re fingerin’ me and _you,_ of all people, make golf puns?!”

“Oh please, we’re doing it in a putt putt course _windmill_ , you jerk,” Pacifica retorted, her other hand lifting to tangle itself in Mabel’s hair. Then, after situating a grip, she tugged gently, angling Mabel’s head back. “Also, nobody told you to question what I say when I’m doing what I please with my fingers.”

“Y-yes ma’am!” Mabel panted. Oh lord, why did Paz have to find that turn on? She was right and truly fucked now, having her hair pulled like that.

“Good,” was all Paz said in response. Mabel whined, hips pushing back as her back arched, the pull on her hair forcing her to curve. Pacifica grinned and ran her lips around the rim of Mabel’s ear. “Now then, should I stop, or…?”

“Please, d-don’t stop,” was all Mabel could manage to mutter. Her thoughts were buzzing so loud inside her head. Her stomach kept doing flips, but she didn’t feel queasy. Just very, very eager.

A gasp escaped her as she felt Pacifica’s finger joined by a second, both digits running along her outer folds. Her legs felt like jello, and parted to give the blonde temptress easier access. It did not go unnoticed, and soon she felt those fingers wiggle their way inwards, before curling and plunging into her.

Mabel cried out in pleasure, both arms shifting to hold herself up against the wall. Pacifica stole the chance to release Mabel’s hair, a hand snaking up the front of the brunette’s shirt, nails drawing slow, teasing spirals over her abdomen. Mabel’s hips rolled down towards the other hand, where fingers probed, getting slicker by the moment.

“My my, if you were any wetter you’d be a faucet,” Pacifica teased. Her fingers wriggled about, swirling a circle against Mabel’s inner walls, which teased a short, high pitched squeal from her. With a brow perked, the blonde gave her fingers another twirl, and was met with another siren’s shriek.

“Ohmigawd, Paz, I-I’m g-gunna-” Mabel started, but she found herself cut off as the hand left her shirt, and came up to tug her hair back again. She gasped, then moaned as soft lips pressed urgently to her own.  If the hair tugging didn’t do it, and the fingers going to town in her snatch weren’t doing it, the kiss did.

Pacifica’s lips still tasted of wine cooler, along with a hint of raspberry lip gloss, and when her mind stopped spinning, she’d even be able to tell you what brand it was. The lips were oh so soft, like tiny pillows of wet warmth pressed to her own. When she felt Pacifica’s tongue dart out against her own lips, that was the clincher.

With a low, gurgling moan oozing out of her throat and into the kiss, Mabel’s insides squeezed around her friend’s fingers, fluids of arousal trickling out around the meeting of flesh. A wave of euphoria washed over her, radiating outwards from her belly button, followed by yet another, and another as Pacifica’s fingers kept moving, coaxing every bit of pleasure that they could from Mabel.

When the kiss finally broke off, Mabel slumped forward against the wall, whining as she felt Pacifica’s fingers come free from her Personal Space. They lingered in front of her face for a moment, and when she leaned towards them, mouth open, they were yanked away. She frowned as she listened to Pacifica sucking on them behind her, and blushed furiously. Did she even taste good? Was the sweat hanging in the air of this cramped golf course obstacle messing with it?

_Why am I even thinking about that?! Dipper’ll read me the riot act if he finds out about this._

“Aren’t you just delectable.”

That voice drained Mabel of any focus she had on her guilt, her legs clamping together shyly. She managed to twist her head around, to see Pacifica wearing the most sincere smile she’d ever seen on the rich girl’s face. It softened her newfound resolve even further.

“S-so… are we uh, good to go finish up this round of putt putt or…?” Mabel asked, trying to regain something resembling her composure. A wry chuckle behind her told her that no, in fact, she had yet to escape the humid inside of this windmill, to finish a friendly, _innocent_ game of mini golf.

“Now now, Mabel! How rude,” Pacifica sighed. “You let your friend make you feel that good but then you just want to run off without returning any favors? Goodness sake.”

Uh oh, Mabel was afraid of this. Now she really wouldn’t be able to say no. She’d had a tiny crush on Paz for a long time, and this summer was making it more twisted up in her head. But, at the same time, Paz was right. Fair was fair. Quid-pro-quo.

“Just this once?” Mabel asked as she turned around, to see Pacifica smiling around the mouth of her wine cooler. The blonde nodded, licking her lips as she set the bottle aside.

“Sure, just, you know, get it out of our systems!” she quipped. Mabel felt a hollow pit growing in the back of her skull. Yeah, sure, because she’d ever get _this_ out of her system. All the same, she nodded back, scuffing a shoe against the floor.

“So, uh, I gotta admit I dunno what I’m s’posed to to be-eep!” She was cut off by a firm hand on her shoulder, that pushed her down to her knees. Pacifica tilted her head from side to side, as if mentally measuring things. With a finger hooked under Mabel’s chin, she brought her up straighter an inch or two, then grinned.

“There! Just say ‘aaahhh’, and close your eyes!”

After moment or two of fidgeting, Mabel obliged with only slight reluctance. Opening her mouth, she hummed out a note, eyes closing. She felt the other girl shift, and before she could say a single word, her mouth was smothered by Pacifica’s crotch.

Instinctively, her body tried to pull back, but a sudden grasp on her hair held her fast in place. A chill ran down her spine, her tongue slipping out to glide over her friend’s nethers. This earned a high pitched, hushed giggle of pleasure, which spurred her onwards to lick again, and again.

Mabel’s hands found their way to the blonde’s thighs, caressing gently as she put her lips and tongue to the task.  Pacifica was sweet, with a slight acidity that was addictive. Each time she pulled her tongue back into her mouth, she felt herself craving more and more. Every few seconds, Pacifica would grind downwards, and Mabel would groan into the motion.

 _Goodness, Mabel’s just as good at this as her brother_ , Pacifica noted mentally. That was certainly something she might ask about in the far future, but as it stood now, secrecy was her best friend to keep this going.

With a shuddering sigh, she tilted her drink to her lips again, and just as she went to pour herself a mouthful, Mabel’s lips puckered around her clit and suckled gently. The sudden jolt to her system caused her to sputter, and cold, bubbly fluid trickled through her cleavage, down her belly, and what bits of it that didn’t get absorbed by her shirt, eventually met the point where Mabel’s lips were on her.

The Pines girl pulled her head back with a small jump, but the firm grasp on her hair kept her, for the most part, in place. There was a inwards tug and a disappointed click of Pacifica’s tongue.

“Naughty thing, you made me spill my drink! Clean that u-ooh!”

Apparently, Mabel didn’t need to be told twice. Her tongue lashed out, gathering up every bit of wine cooler it could find before her lips sealed to Pacifica again, bordering her ladyhood as she returned to her previous task with vigor. Pacifica smiled as she gasped, relishing the sight of Mabel so eagerly burying her face between her legs.

“Oh my, did you enjoy that? Well then…” Pacifica tugged the brunette’s head back again, met with a needy whimper. With a lean back, she gently drizzled more wine cooler against her lower abdomen, letting it drizzle down over herself. “Have some more, I implore you.”

Mabel grasped Pacifica’s ass, and, using it for leverage, buried her face between those thighs again, suckling every bit of fruity essence that she could from the pale skin and warm sex. Pacifica was in heaven, hips rolling down with every lap of Mabel’s tongue, a tight coil of pressure building in her midsection.

“Yes, yes, yes, _FUCK!_ ”

Thighs clamped against the sides of Mabel’s head, Pacifica rode her friend’s face to an orgasm rivaling the one that Dipper had given her two days prior. Mabel’s tongue never slowed, and anything that Pacifica might have leaked during her climax was greedily swallowed. Only when the blonde parted her legs and stepped back did either of them seem to breathe in.

Mabel slowly opened her eyes, blinking several times to clear her blurred vision. Paz stood over her, crotch a mess of lip gloss smears and drool. She was certain the floor under her was damp now. She bit her lower lip as Pacifica finally let go of her hair.

“Goodness, I haven’t had that much fun in… well, awhile!” Pacifica noted triumphantly. She had almost stumbled and said ‘in two days’, which certainly would have ruined any plans for the future. She needed to be more careful with her choice of words, if she was going to see this through the whole summer.

“So, uh,” Mabel mumbled, reaching for her skirt and panties to tug them on swiftly. “We’re gonna finish our golf round now, right? I’m only one stroke behind you and I’m pretty sure if I step up my game, I’ll have you licked!”

Only after Pacifica snorted, while tugging on her shorts, did Mabel realize what had just come out of her mouth. She slapped a hand over her eyes as Pacifica leaned in, kissing her on the cheek.

“Sure, whatever. As far as I’m concerned I already won!” With a quick skip, Pacifica was back outside the windmill, leaving Mabel with her thoughts.

_Oh good god I just made out with Paz’s naughty bits. If he ever finds out, Dipper’s gonna kill me!_

**_=Pacifica=_ **

The rest of June seemed to pass by without major incident. That is, of course, if you could consider Pacifica separately luring each twin out to her mansion discreetly, a few times a week, for another round of wild sex “without major incident”. The more she had them, the more she craved them.

Towards the end of the month, though, she found herself needing the itch for each twin scratched at the same time. Which, of course, would never do. She could tell they were both racked with guilt over the situation, but somehow the taboo nature of this whole escapade spurned her onwards. She loved being the naughty little secret. She wasn’t sure what she should do to get her needs satisfied, until one day, while sitting in her room, she saw a shirt Dipper had left behind.

 _How does a man that does physical labor and spend his leisure time crawling about in the woods smell so GOOD?!_ she thought, taking a deep sniff of the collar. A thrilled tingle shot up her spine. With a playful shrug, she tugged the garment on and stepped in front of the mirror to look at herself.

It wasn’t a bad look, but then again she could make a burlap sack fashionable if she set her mind to it. She was twisting this way and that, admiring it from different angles when she spotted the bag from the Mystery Shack.

With a brow perked, she pulled the hat she had purchased weeks beforehand out. She would never wear that thing in public. Even if Dipper had one just like it!

 _Wait, I have his shirt, and his hat…_  Swiftly pulling her hair up into a tight bun, she set the hat on her head and gave herself another look in the mirror.

 _Good god if I could grow stubble I could almost pass off as Dipper! Well, if he was blue eyed and this good looking of a girl._ With a smirk, she adjusted the outfit for a few seconds. Then she felt a light bulb click on in her skull.

Quickly shedding the ensemble, she stepped to her closet and walked in, straight to her costume supplies. Even a Northwest was allowed to enjoy a game of dress up for a party, after all. She found the wig heads, and scanned them until her eyes fell on one in particular. With a delighted giggle, she grabbed it and a wig cap, putting them on, and stepping in front of her mirror yet again.

 _My goodness, I could pull off either twin’s look!_ She grinned wide, and predatory. _I know exactly how to scratch that “both-twins itch…”_

-End June-


	2. July

_**=Mabel & Dipper=** _

“Where ya off to, Dipstick?”

Mabel was sprawled out on her brother’s bed in the attic, thumping her heels against the wall as she watched her brother grab his hat and a shirt. They had been lazing about, but a text message forced Dipper to check his phone, then leap into action, pulling on his shoes.

“I, uh, I have a group I follow that sends out messages about potential bigfoot sightings, and they say there’s a chance one’s running around near town today,” he explained.

 _There we go, Dipper, lie some more._ He was glad his back was to his sister as he said that. If she saw his face, she’d never have believed him. He wasn’t even aware he was holding his breath until he heard her laugh.

“Haha! Neeerrrd,” she joked, throwing a pillow at his back. “Want any help?”

“N-no!” He quickly swallowed, steeling his nerves. “I mean, it’ll be easier to track it alone, I think. Too many people walking through the woods might frighten it off, yanno?”

Mabel merely nodded in understanding at that. He sighed as quietly as he could.

“Just don’t get yourself eaten or anything, bro bro. There’s some pretty hungry critters lurking out there,” she advised. He rolled his eyes.

“Mabel, trust me, I didn’t get eaten by that coyote when we were 12, I can survive this.” In his head, however, he was trying to figure out if he could, indeed, survive the creature whose appetite he was feeding, for much longer.

 _Pacifica is fucking insatiable. How does anyone have a sex drive cranked that high?!_ he wondered. Two, three times a week ever since their ‘ghost hunt’, she had sent him a text to meet her chauffeur along the road somewhere, and he would be driven in a small car to the Northwest estate. After the first two weeks, Pacifica had even given up on telling any of the help it was a ‘ghost hunt’, but at the same time the staff never once suggested he was there for anything else. The butler he had met on the first night, in fact, always wished him luck.

“Such a noisy spirit, please do find a way to run it off if you would be so kind,” he would say. Dipper wasn’t sure if this man was ignorant, dumb, or just playing along. Years of serving high society types had apparently trained him to keep a straight face no matter what came out of his mouth.

_**=Dipper & Pacifica=** _

Today was no different. A brief hike, a short car ride, and as soon as he was at the manor, Pacifica was whisking him off to her chambers. He chewed on his lip the whole way, listening to her prattle on about whatever thing it was she was making up to give any maid or other help that saw them plausible deniability. Once the were in her room, she stopped talking, shoving him towards the bed, and straddling his lap on her knees.

“So, Dipper,” she piped up between kissing his jawline and nipping his earlobe. “I was wondering, since you’ve been willing to indulge me for this long in our little escapade, if you’d hear me out on something?”

He nodded, his face buried against her neck and shoulder for a moment as he reveled in how she smelled that day; oranges, coconut and passion fruit. She had no right to smell that wonderful. “I guess, what’s it gonna hurt?”

“Well…” she sighed, sitting back, hands on his shoulders. “It’s just I’ve always had a very… _specific_ sort of kink I’ve never had anyone let me indulge in.”

“Uh… huh?” He perked a brow at the blonde in his lap, giving her hips a squeeze. She giggled appreciatively at that.

“It’s kind of really taboo…”

“Most things done in bed are. Most of what we’ve been doing the last three weeks has been. Just spit it out!”

She grinned, unable to believe it could be this easy. This dork was so easily to wrap around her finger, compared to a few years back. It was amazing what kind of leverage sex had given her.

“Well, as you know, I’m an only child,” she explained. “And I always kind of envied what you and Mabel had. You had best friends to grow up with all your lives.”

“Where does this fit into you and me having sex on your bed?” he asked, his face incredulous.

“Will… will you call me your sister this time?”

Dipper straightened his arms, pushing himself a bit further away from her.

“You want me to call you by my sister’s name while I’m balls deep in you?!”

“No!” she huffed, crossing her arms. “Just… call me Sis, or something.” She cast her gaze down, rubbing at her shoulders as she pouted. “I’m sorry, it’s too far, I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“Sorry! I just…” he sighed, shaking his head. “Mabel and I used to get teased in middle school and junior high, because people thought we were _too_ close as siblings and… Sorry, I jumped the gun, I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge.”

“So… you’ll consider it at least?” she inquired with a wiggle of her backside against his thighs. He slowly but surely nodded, and she grinned wide, hooking a finger under his chin. “That’s all I ask, now c’mere.”

With their lips smashed together, Dipper could only think of one thing; what was he getting himself into?! Well, Pacifica, mostly. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but he was addicted to her now.

Time seemed to blur between being clothed and being naked, a montage of hungry kisses, of nails dug into skin. Positions changed several times; since their first encounter, Dipper had gotten bolder, more commanding in bed. The two seemed to wrestle for control sometimes, seeing who could stay on top the longest. Today, more than content to let him have the reins, Pacifica ended up with her face buried in the bedspread, his hands on her hips as he drove into her from behind.

Her toes curled, teeth digging into her bottom lip as he took her. Every thrust forward leaving her deliriously, blissfully full and each pull away leaving her aching for more. She truly did not mind when Dipper was so forceful; if anything, it made it a challenge. To see if she could hold out longer than he did, as his being in charge of things was so thrilling.

A firm hand grasped her shoulder and she let out a hushed squeal, her fingers moving south over her stomach, gliding past that small, trim arrow she kept shaved in place, and finally finding where flesh met flesh. As her digits started spiraling over her bud, she felt Dipper’s balls swing up into her fingertips, which elicited another giggle from her. He was really, _really_ into it.

Dipper, however, was dealing with a small internal struggle as his thighs met that pale, creamy backside over and over. She wanted him to call her “Sis”. It seemed so wrong. It made his insides twist in a way he couldn’t discern from arousal or minor disgust. Sure, maybe, once upon a time he’d had small crush on… no! Nope, he wasn’t thinking about that right now. His hips drove harder, pushing the thought from his head swiftly.

“Come on, Dipper,” she panted, glancing over her shoulder. “S-so close!”

Her voice was like a siren song whenever she got close to her climax. It made it so difficult to focus, hard to not turn into an animal and hammer away with even more vigor. The tops of his thighs already stung, yet somehow he found the energy to slam into her even harder. Leaning down, he wrapped his arms around her torso, tugging her into him as he fought the urge to let loose before she could.

 _Now or never, Dipper…_ he thought as he pressed his lips to the edge of her ear. She wanted it? He’d give it to her.

“Cum for me, _Sis…_ ”

Pacifica’s vision went white. She bit down on the comforter they were furiously fucking on top of, and let out a muffled shriek as her inner walls clamped down on him like a velvet vice. She hadn’t expected him to indulge her request the first time. The very idea that he would so easily go along with it caused visions of her future plans to flit through her mind’s eye, causing her to rock with orgasm every time he thrust forward.

“F-fill me up, bro,” she spoke through clenched teeth.

Something in Dipper’s torso seemed to snap at that. His hips pressed to her one last time as he went still, gasping in her ear as he came. She rolled her backside with each and every pulsating throb, eager to milk him for all he was worth.

_How did that work?! I’m not that into the incest thing, am I? Oh god… Oh god now Mabel can never ever find out. EVER._

They lay together, his body overtop hers, until his softening flesh slid free, causing them both to gasp again as he rolled to the side. Pacifica wiggled about, leaning her head on his chest, drawing small circles on his sternum with her fingernails. He gave her a weak, embarrassed smile, while she playfully made a kissy face at him.

 _If she’s as easy as he is with this,_ Pacifica thought, _then I’m not going to have any trouble getting what I want at all!_

_**=Mabel & Pacifica=** _

Mabel’s method of dodging the truth was much easier to pull off than her brother’s. She simply had to put forth the notion that she was going out to shop at the mall, and she could practically be gone for two days before anybody questioned her whereabouts. She could just drive to Pacifica’s house, unchallenged, and get her fix.

She didn’t like lying to her brother. She didn’t like the idea that she broke a deal that she herself had put forth. She especially didn’t like the thrill it gave her to be doing it.

But, here she was, once again, marching through Pacifica’s front door.

She was shown to Pacifica’s room by one of the maids, who made pleasant conversation. She even bothered to ask Mabel if she ever saw any lawn gnomes on the grounds at times, to which she stated that she had, in fact, not seen a gnome, lawn ornament or otherwise on the grounds.

“Ah, well,” the maid relented, standing beside Pacifica’s bedroom door and curtsying politely. “Please enjoy your visit.”

As the hired help scuttled off, she had the inkling that the staff here knew more than they said they did. It made her feel even worse about all this sneaking around behind her brother’s back, all in exchange for some good sex.

…Okay, great sex. Alright, _awesome_ sex. Mabel had never had such a good time between the sheets at all, ever, with anyone else. Even herself, back at home with the menagerie of both homemade and store bought “companions” she kept stuffed away, under her sock drawer in a shoebox that _just fit_ in the space between the floor and the inside of her dresser.

She knocked on the bedroom door, and heard feet scampering across the floor behind before they stopped for a few seconds, then softly and calmly approached the entrance. Mabel couldn’t help but giggle at the notion of Paz being so excited she _ran_ for the door. It swung open to reveal Pacifica, in a long, seafoam satin robe that went to the floor.

“Well hello there, Ms. Pines,” Pacifica said with her typical, business like demeanor. “Please, join me?”

“If you insist,” she playfully responded, stepping through the open door with a skip.

Pacifica watched her plaything enter with a hungry stare. She had been waiting for this night ever since she had twisted the brother around to calling her “sis”. The way he had twitched and shuddered after she called him “bro”, oh that memory was almost enough to soak her silky underthings right through. But that’s not what tonight was about, no.

Tonight was about easing Mabel into it. Pacifica had taken the time to consider that getting Mabel into the incest roleplaying notion would take some more subtle touches. She couldn’t just launch right into genderplay, combined with incest, all from the get go. Too much work, for far too stubborn a head, on that brunette. Her plan involved something else that she’d gotten Mabel used to, in the last few weeks.

As the Pines twin sat on the edge of the bed, nervously kicking her feet, Pacifica took her time strolling over. She kept the sway in her hips under control, electing to walk rigidly. As she took her seat next to Mabel, wrapping an arm around her waist, she nipped at her ear.

“So then, dear Mabel,” she purred. “Just how naughty are you being today?” The other hand walked a set of fingers from knee to the edge of Mabel’s skirt, index finger playfully “kicking” at the fabric.

“I’m bein’ a g-good girl,” she huffed, nervously chewing on her lower lip. Pacifica arched a brow, the finger kicking again. “I mean, It’s not like I’m being _that_ naughty.” Kick. “Y-you told me last time not to-!”

A final flick of her fingers and Mabel’s lack of undergarments became obvious. Pacifica gasped, as if the sight shocked her. It didn’t, honestly, but this was the game they played. Anybody else would think Mabel hated this, but clearly she didn’t. Otherwise why would she be here, on Pacifica’s bed without panties, legs slightly parted as a fingertip drew lazy circles on her inner thigh?

“You listened? To _me_?” Pacifica bubbled with laughter. “Mabel, listening to anything I say immediately classifies you…” she pointed out, fingers gently sliding over the twin’s nethers, touching everywhere but the places she knew would cause the most frustration. Agonizingly close to the most sensitive spots, but at the same time so far away from actually touching. “As the _naughtiest_ one in this room.”

Mabel whimpered her protests, clutching at Pacifica’s robe, gumming the fabric at the shoulder as she rocked her hips. She was desperate to get the blonde to touch her, rub or press against any of the spots she was so skillfully avoiding. Darn her, darn her to heck and back for this stranglehold. Worst of all, curse her for what she knew was coming next.

“And you know what I do to naughty girls, don’t you?”

The words were exhaled, rather than spoken, against her ear. Teeth gently plucked at the very edge of her earlobe. Mabel whined and ground her hips in a circle, trying to coax those teasing fingers into touching her anywhere that would give her that buzz of pleasure she sought.

“N-naughty girls get…” she stuttered, choking on the reply. Pacifica shifted her seating, and the surprise she donned beneath the robe was made obvious. She always wore that robe on the days that she wore the _other_ thing. The thing that the robe’s belt hid rather well, keeping it tight against the girl’s midsection. The thing that now tented the folds of the soft, shiny fabric. “Th-they get pounded.”

“So who’s my naughty little Pines?” Pacifica growled, giving her jawline a nip. Mabel shuddered, her face red as her legs opened as wide as they could. Her blush deepened as Pacifica’s fingers played along her robe’s sash, undoing it fully, and then slowly, torturously, pulling the robe open.

Mabel’s favorite new “companion” stood proud and tall between Pacifica’s legs, held in place by a harness of leather strapping. It was flesh colored, and made of some of the most skin-like silicone ever produced. A perfect reproduction of the human male’s genitalia. And Pacifica wore it like she had been born with it there all her life.

“I am…” Mabel muttered, legs trembling as Pacifica’s fingers gave a small, passing nudge around the sensitive peak of of her ladyparts.

“You’re what?” Another small rub, eliciting a gasp and moan.

“I-I’m your n-naughty little Pines!”

“And what does my naughty little Pines want?” Pacifica demanded in a whisper. Mabel couldn’t help it, she grabbed the blonde by her shoulders, turned her to look her straight in the eye, and gave a small, emphasizing shake.

“Fuck. Me. _Now._ ”

“Ah-ah!” Pacifica chastised, hand pulling away. Mabel whined and tried to scoot her hips towards the escaping digits. “Ask nicely.”

“ _Pleeeaaase._ ” The word was not spoken, not asked. It was begged.

“Please…?” Pacifica repeated, her tone insisting on clarification.

“Please pound me, good god make me scream so loud the staff can’t even claim plausible deniability good god Paz please fu-” she babbled, the run on sentence quashed by Pacifica’s lips crushing to her own. It was hungry, it was fiery, and lord almighty did it make Mabel quiver.

Within mere seconds Pacifica had her laid across the bed, robe shed to leave her in naught but a button-up shirt and the aforementioned harness, the silicone appendage giving a slight bob as the blonde angled herself accordingly. When she positioned herself over Mabel, she moved in for another kiss, but a golden cascade of hair spilled down into the brunette’s face.

“Ack!” Mabel playfully gagged, swatting it away. “Paz I love your hair but you need to invest in scrunchies,” she teased, breaking the act the two had been in. Pacifica puffed her cheeks out and gave Mabel’s nose a playful flick. “Ow!”

“Nobody told you to talk back to me,” she insisted, groping up around the pillows. Mabel looked away with guilt. She knew Paz wasn’t too serious about the whole domme-and-sub thing, yeah, but she still hated it when they broke the immersion of it. It was the game they had chosen after their tryst in the windmill. On rare occasion, Mabel got to be the dominant person. But it was very, very rare. And it clearly wasn’t in the cards for this encounter.

“Yes ma’am,” she pouted, and only when Pacifica was done wiggling around did she speak up again. “Sorry I spoke out of turn, please f-” Glancing up, she noticed Pacifica had stuffed her hair up under a hat. It was very un-Paz-like of her, for many reasons. First of all, Paz never wore ballcaps. Those weren’t fashionable.

Secondly, it looked exactly like her brother’s hat. Something in her chest hitched, and it was obvious on her face, as Pacifica canted her head to one side.

“What’s the matter?” she inquired, playfully rubbing a thumb over Mabel’s chin. “Don’t you like it? I bought it at the Shack, when I came to invite you to putt-putt! You sold it to me.”

“It… it’s uh…” Mabel gulped, unable to wrench her eyes from it. She had no idea what was going on in her stomach right now. And she was certain if she tried to mention it, sex was out the window. She licked her lips as she tried to formulate a response, but a sudden twist of Pacifica’s hips and she had the thought robbed from her mind.

She always did that on the first thrust; waited for Mabel to be distracted before she pushed in. The look on Mabel’s face, that shock and pleasure mingling together was ambrosia. Mabel’s brain switching off caused the most interesting, arousing faces. The corner of Paz’s mouth curled up in a confident smirk.

The second thrust caused Mabel to gasp, hands clawing at the bedsheets. Pacifica knew how to roll her hips just so, to strike every last little spot inside of her on a single push. She looked up at her, brown eyes locking onto blue, before the third shove caused her to squeeze her eyes shut.

The fourth snapped them right back open again, and when she went to look Paz in the eyes again, she failed. Her eyes tried to roll up into her skull, but got stuck. Instead, they locked directly onto that hat. Her _brother’s_ hat.

She felt her skin tighten, goosebumps prickling over the pale surface. She bit down on her lip and forced herself to look elsewhere. She cast her eyes to the side, focusing on the door as she squirmed and whimpered under Pacifica. Her ‘mistress’ though, seemed to be having none of that.

A firm grip on the girl’s chin, and Pacifica twisted her head back to face her. Mabel shut her eyes again, ignoring that tingle in her belly, and trying to force that image of her brother’s hat from her mind’s eye as the tingle got hotter and hotter.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Pacifica mused, grinning wide. “You know the rules, you have to look at me when you cum.” Mabel whimpered, giving her head a small shake. Pacifica’s hand left her chin, ran up along her cheek, and then gave her hair a playful tug. “Open your eyes or I’m going to pull out right this instant.”

“N-no, please d-” Mabel begged, eyes snapping open. Pacifica arched her back, giving the heaviest, most powerful thrust she could manage. Both bodies rocked, and the angle of their lovemaking forced Mabel’s eyes onto that blue pine tree.

The shriek as she came was the loudest she’d been yet. Her body trembled and bucked, hips pushing herself up into Pacifica’s lap with each wave of orgasm that rocked through her. She only managed to quiet herself when Pacifica ran a thumb along her lip, which she locked her mouth over swiftly to distract herself.

_No no, Mabel. That… no. We can’t remember that. Don’t remember that third summer here, when… When you…_

She gulped, disguising the action as her swallowing the mouthful of spit she built up around Paz’s thumb.

_Dipper’ll hate me if he ever knows. About that, or this…_

**_=Pacifica=_ **

Splayed across her bed, Pacifica amused herself with memories of the past week’s trysts.

Dipper had been so easy to manipulate. Getting him to play along with her little game was like working with soft clay! It had taken all of what, ten minutes? If she didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn the boy might have had a deeper kink streak than he let on.

Mabel, on the other hand, was a more complex puzzle. For all of her brother’s wits and smarts, he was easy to mold. Mabel, however, was a deeper, more emotionally complicated thing. But the look in her eyes, eyes that had been glued onto a copy of her twin brother’s hat? Oh, she was into it. She was _definitely_ into it.

The following week proved fruitful as well, much to her utter delight. First, she had busted out the wig for her next romp with Dipper. A beautiful, chestnut brown that matched either twin’s hair, pinned in place so well he might have been able to tug on it without it budging. Not that she’d let him tug her hair regardless, but, he could have, was the point.

At first he’d resisted, saying that it was almost too much. But she pressed him, and pressed _against_ him, and he eventually decided to yield. And, for her efforts, she had been rewarded by one very, _very_ enthusiastic Dipper Pines, muttering familial terms to her while they rutted. She was certain the growl in his voice as he spoke would be forever burnt into her memory, and she would have it no other way.

Later that week, with Mabel, she had suggested some minor genderplay in addition to the strap-on. Mabel didn’t seem to mind one bit, until the plaid shirt and ballcap came out. Then she seemed nervous. Not so much apprehensive, just… anxious? As if there was a show going on in her head, replaying somewhat less than pleasant memories, that she still almost enjoyed. The look in her eyes, it drove Pacifica wild. There was a hunger there that needed to be sated, and every time they fell on the hat, they got _hungrier._

 _But still…._ She lamented. _Something seems to be missing? Seeing the twins, feeling them react to this little game of sibling-on-sibling interaction, still feels a bit empty._ She tapped a finger to her lower lip as she mulled it over. Dipper was referring to her as his sister. Mabel stared at her like she was an even dirtier secret than she was the first time they’d settled the bet in the windmill.

She sat up and looked at herself in the mirror. She was, for the sake of reliving her memories, wearing the wig, which she had style to look like Mabel’s typically bouncy, poofy hair that fell into place perfectly. She stared for a brief while, envious that her own hair didn’t behave as such, no matter how much she worked at it. Mid thought, she felt a small lightbulb go off.

With a quick grab, she had donned the hat. She stared at herself in the mirror with it on, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. No wonder the “both twins itch” wasn’t getting addressed as well as she had hoped. Of course it wouldn’t be! She still wasn’t seeing them both at the same time. But, staring into this mirror, she knew how to accomplish just that.

_**=Dipper & Pacifica=** _

“Ah! Young Master Pines, so good to see you,” the butler politely mused as Dipper came through the door. “I do hope that this time you can root out the source of our gh-”

Dipper fixed the butler with an unamused stare, perking an eyebrow. “So, are you just _pretending_ to be this gullible or…?”

“Ah, very well, the Northwests proper are away, I suppose the act can be dropped.” Dipper’s eyes widened at the butler’s equally unamused response. “What? I could do no more to control her than you apparently can. Besides,” he added with a sniff, “I get paid extra to keep my mouth shut, courtesy of young Miss Northwest. Just keep the screaming to a minimum, please.”

“I… uh… okay then,” he murmured as he set off towards the familiar destination of Pacifica’s room. That had been a far more blunt response than he expected. Then again, two months of thrice-weekly fuckfests with Pacifica had likely worn thin on how much further the staff could feign ignorance. At any rate, knowing that Pacifica had greased palms to keep this all quiet was a bit of a relief. It meant that he could at least feel a little bit less like he had to keep a front with the staff as well.

He knocked at the familiar door, noticing how the simple echo of the wood’s resonance itself had become a slight aphrodisiac. _Good god, this whole summer is going to have me in therapy someday, at this rate._

“Come in!” a sing song voice rang out. Pacifica sounded especially cheery today. That was a good sign; she was a much funner partner when her mood was this upbeat. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open enough to just step through, since once he had arrived to her buck naked, bent over the bed. He had felt it important that the door not be open very far, just in case a maid or butler happened to walk past at the same moment.

“Sorry I’m a few minutes late this time, I had a brief but enlightening conversation with the doorman,” he mused, latching the door back shut. He turned on his heels, hands on the bottom hem of his shirt, and froze once he had it halfway off.

She was wearing the wig again. He felt the back of his skull suddenly gain a pound or two as his pants tightened in contrast. Dread and excitement, all at once. He loathed and loved the combination as though it was some sort of fancy food. In fact, not only did she have the wig on, she also had on a poofy sweater, a pleated skirt, and a headband that he could have sworn all belonged to his sister at some point. But what really hit home, what really caused the pipes in his central nervous system to clog up, were her eyes.

Pacifica’s eyes had always been blue. They were like staring at a clear ocean, or a cloud free winter sky. They were inviting and cold all at once. He had grown accustomed to watching how the color seemed to deepen when she came. She had _blue_ eyes.

But not today.

Today they were brown. A very familiar brown. He had seen those eyes for years growing up. Eyes just as brown as his. Save for her distinctive, sharp angled features that contrasted to his sister’s softer face, Pacifica looked almost exactly like Mabel.

“What’d the doorman say, brother mine?” she asked, voice perky as she sat on the edge of the bed, feet swinging. She was playing the part with more enthusiasm than usual, he noted. Ignoring that, he turned to look at the other thing in the room that had caught his eye. A few feet from the foot of the bed sat a large, tri-fold, dressing mirror.

“Oh he just kinda, sorta divulged that he knew more than he lets on is all,” he noted, nodding towards the mirror as he stepped closer. “Where’d that come from?”

“Oh, the mirror?” she replied, her voice falling back into her typical business-like tone for the moment. “I ordered it a few days ago, so I could get a better look at some of my outfits.”

“I thought you had double mirrors in the closet though,” he mumbled, recalling the time they had spent in there once. He’d never imagined fucking in a closet would be so roomy before, but he had also never dreamed he’d have sex in one that was bigger than most kitchens.

“Are you trying to tell me I have too many mirrors?” she teased, briefly poking her tongue out at him. He shook his head with a laugh.

“No! No, I just figured it seemed a bit redundant.” With a sigh he sat on the bed and looked over at her again. As soon as her eyes met his, the colored contacts and playful smile caused his head to feel funny yet again. “So, uh…”

“Yeah, bro?” she quipped. His jeans got uncomfortably tight, uncomfortably fast. How dare this sort of thing be so uncomfortably appealing. She walked a pair of fingers up his thigh, to the button on his fly.

“You seem… d-different,” he stammered, watching as her fingers deftly flicked his button open and pinched on his zipper. Her index finger’s nail was painted pink. The middle was purple, the ring fingernail blue, the pinkie green, all in candy-like pastel tones.

“Whaddaya mean, Dip?” she teased, her tone very Mabel-like. If she changed her inflection a tad, he’d almost swear it was his sister undoing his zipper as she planted a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. And he wasn’t sure which worried him more; the fact that it was mind numbingly hot, or what that first fact meant about him.

“W-well, y-your eyes… and-” he started, but she pressed her lips to his to silence him. She tasted like cotton candy and bubblegum. She smelled like Jolly Ranchers and Pixie Stix. Everything about her screamed **Mabel** despite that he knew, in the back of his mind, that wasn’t who this girl was.

“My eyes are the same color they’ve always been, bro,” she whispered against his lips. A shiver trailed up his spine, and the momentary distraction gave her the chance to yank his pants downwards. He hissed once exposed to the cool air of the room, and she bit down on her lower lip.

 _Oh good heavens that’s the hardest I’ve ever seen him get from just a kiss!_ she thought, squealing internally as she ran a painted fingernail along the underside. He shifted back and forth in his seat, antsy, nervous. She hummed, making the sound as much like his sister’s as she could. After all, while even he might not know what his sister sounded like aroused, Pacifica did. And that part was for _her_ enjoyment.

“P… Pacif-” he started, but she placed a fingertip against his lips. He frowned a bit, but offered no further argument. She looked up at him with a pout.

“C’mon, don’t you recognize your own sister?” she purred. “We’re best friends even.” She wrapped her hand delicately around his manhood as she swiveled to settle to her knees on the floor, between his legs. She pressed her lips just as softly to the tip of his dick as she had to his own lips earlier, and an enthusiastic throb was emphasized with a vocal, eager grunt, as well as a bead of clear, sticky fluid pooling at the slit.

He whimpered, staring down at her. He didn’t want this fantasy, and at the same time he did. He felt like telling himself otherwise was a lie. Had Pacifica somehow tapped into his memories of being fifteen, that summer? When he had a hard time _not_ staring at his own sister. When he realized that Mabel was, in fact, a girl. And, like most girls, she possessed the usual attractive features of the fairer sex that most men found alluring. Stuff like curves, flowy hair, and long eyelashes.

Her eyes met his as her mouth parted into a gentle, inviting O-shape, tongue flicking out just under the crown and pulling him towards her lips. She hummed lovingly around his flesh, tongue swirling. Instinctively his hands found her hair and pulled it back behind her scalp, despite the headband keeping most of it out of the way. He panted heavily, watching as inch after inch of himself vanished into her mouth.

“Holy fuck sis,” he groaned. He hadn’t even thought about it before he said it this time. The words just slipped out. One hand slapped to his own mouth, to stifle further phrases from escaping. Pacifica merely shoved her head downwards of her own accord, whining happily as she nuzzled into the patch of brown fuzz he kept trimmed above his pubic region. She pulled back, and he didn’t fight as she let him slide out of her mouth, a strand of spittle bridging the gap between her lip and his knob.

“See bro, it’s not so bad,” she mewled, crawling up to kiss him again. He instantly pushed into it this time, grabbing her hips and throwing her to the bed as they wrestled their tongues together. Pacifica did her part to emulate his sister’s tongue movements while also trying to learn his, and stay in the moment. It was a straining mental exercise, but all the same it riled her up further. It was part of the act she would be engaging in, in the near future. It was only when she felt Dipper’s hand glide up her thigh and clasp her rear end that she lost herself in the moment.

Fingers hooked in her waistband and tugged the soft, silky underwear she wore down. He watched as the panties emerged from under the skirt, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the cartoon pig printed on the front. He looked at them, then to Pacifica and back again.

“What?!”

“Really? Pig underwear?” he noted, trying not to laugh. She snatched them out of his hands and blew a raspberry his way.

“I like pigs, you dummy!” she snapped, in the most Mabel way she could. It worked, because he merely rolled his eyes at her. A maneuver she had seen him employ against his sister many a time before. Inside she was screaming victoriously; he was really into this act.

“True, I suppose!” He grabbed her ankle and wiggled her little toe. “In fact look, five of them! This little piggy went to market,” his fingers pinched the next toe, “This little piggy stayed home.”

“You’re a dork!” she laughed in her best Mabel giggle. He smirked, pinching the next toe.

“This little piggy had roast beef…” She guffawed, despite herself. “This little piggy had none.”

“What about the last one?” she demanded, giving her big toe a flex. He regarded it momentarily, then tapped it.

“What, this little piggy? It went ‘wee wee wee!’,” he declared, fingers running along her inner thigh, eliciting gasps and laughter from her. “All the way home,” he added, a finger running up her slit. She cooed and arched her hips.

“I think the _big_ piggy needs to go home,” she growled, using her toes to poke his dick. He shooed the foot away with a snort.

“Impatient as always, sis,” he remarked, grasping her by the hips and flipping her over. She was now on all fours, facing the mirror, and beside herself with glee.

“Yeah yeah, shuddup and get in there!” she declared with a wiggle of her hindquarters. Without hesitation, he had her skirt flipped up and his member lodged between her cheeks. He ground himself against her like this once, twice. On the third roll of his hips, though, he pulled back, used a hand to position himself, and pressed in.

Both Pacifica and Dipper gasped in unison, each finally glad to be to the main event. As Dipper began to thrust, Pacifica’s eyes shot up to the mirror.

There she watched as Dipper eagerly slapped his thighs to her backside over and over, hands on her hips, gaze down on the action, watching the space where their bodies met. And whenever her eyes met her own, it was hardly her face she saw at all. It was Mabel staring back at her from the reflective surface, with Dipper enthusiastically rutting with _her_ instead of Pacifica. She shuddered, brow furrowing as the sight awakened something within her.

Heat ran from the tip of her nose to her toes. Her skin felt like it was on fire and under ice all at once, goosebumps rising on the surface. A hand shot back under her, a lone fingertip finding her bud and pressing delicately. She squeaked and instantly tugged her hand away, lest she get herself off too fast. Seeing the twins “together” was even more exciting than she anticipated. Good heavens, she was just as twisted as she was making them! Something about that stoked the fires of her passion even hotter.

“F-fuck sake, bro, h-harder! Pound me!” she begged. His hands left her hips, wrapping around her midsection as he hunched over her form, chin hooked over her shoulder as his hips hammered away, obliging her readily. She squealed, writhing under him. “Yes Dipper, yes! Oh gods Dipper, please…”

She suddenly felt him tense, his hips driving into her again with a hearty _**WHAP.**_ She whimpered, her body tensing, pressure building in her abdomen. Another thrust, _**WHAP!**_ Then another, and another, each one rocking their bodies in unison. Then, he hissed inwards, sucking air through clenched teeth as his hips shoved his body to hers, enveloping her form as she felt that first telltale throb inside of her.

“H-holy fuck, Mabel,” he groaned.

Pacifica’s body locked, legs trembling as the words leaving his lips drove her over the edge.

 _Ohfuckohfuckoh **FUCK!!!**_ She hadn’t anticipated it so soon. She had never imagined that he’d do that without any sort of begging or anything on her own part. No, he had simply given it to her. He had fit the final piece of the puzzle into place without little more encouragement than some of Mabel’s clothes that she had conveniently ‘misplaced’ in Pacifica’s room over the last two weeks.

They stayed locked together like that, his flesh tucked snugly inside her own as his own mind raced. He’d just said what was possibly the most worrying thing he’d ever said mid-orgasm. It wasn’t enough that it was his sister’s name, nope. He’d said it in Pacifica’s ear. Of all the people he had to give that chunk of blackmail potential to, it had been her.

Of course, that worried him far less than the fact that when he uttered it, he’d forgotten that it was Pacifica. For a brief moment, in his mind’s eye, he’d been locked in coitus with _Mabel_. He’d been pounding the everliving fuck out of his own sister, as far as his imagination was concerned. And he _loved_ it.

“Can… can we forget I said that last bit?” he managed to blurt. Pacifica giggled and rolled her hips back against him, causing him to shudder.

“But whyyyy,” she purred, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You just gave ‘Mabel’ the most enthusiastic fucking I’ve ever felt.” With that, she twisted to plant a kiss on his cheek. “But relax. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone I dressed up as your sister so we could fuck.”

“Oh thank god,” he sighed, hips slipping away as he withdrew, then flopping on the bed. “Because that’s the _last_ rumor I need floating around about me.”

Pacifica turned to lean across his midsection, painted nails gently scratching his chest. His eyes met hers, then instantly shot to the side. She smirked, then tapped his nose.

“I told you when this forbidden relationship of sorts began,” she reassured him. “This is all between us.”

 _Besides,_ she noted in her head, _the only info I’m taking away from this is how best to fuck your sister next._

_**=Mabel & Pacifica=** _

Mabel stared at Pacifica’s bedroom door, hesitating.

 _Mabel, I can’t believe you would actually call Paz and ask her if you could… could do THAT again._ The memory of Pacifica wearing the ballcap and plaid shirt while railing her had kept her very close company in the shower the last few nights. She felt immense guilt over how much she had enjoyed that. Not to mention _why_ she had enjoyed it so much.

 _Girl, you need to have a serious sit down and talk with yourself once we get this out of our system again._ She frowned, not sure which side of the debate she’d rather be on. _I mean, this is a healthy outlet, right? I can’t sate these desires the way I’d really wanna. I figured that out when I was fifteen._ She sighed heavily, and sat down in front of the door, still staring.

 _But will this even get this out of my system? Isn’t this making these urges bubble up to the surface again? We got over this weird crush on Dip-Dop right before the holidays rolled around after that summer…_ She groaned, pulling on her hair.

“Argh! Blargh, why am I so gross?!” she huffed, leaning forward to thunk her head against the door. There was, a second later, a click and the door swung open to reveal Pacifica, dressed rather tomboyish, in a dark green plaid shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and that same blue and white ballcap that Dipper had.

“Oh, hello Mabel. What has you sitting down there and knocking with your forehead?” she teased, extending a hand to help the girl stand. Mabel sheepishly accepted, standing slowly.

“Just, uh, got some mental gunk jammin’ up the gears and everything. Nothin’ too bad!” Once she was standing up she brushed herself off, straightening her skirt out before stepping through into Pacifica’s room.

“You don’t say?” the blonde quipped, closing the door softly and falling into step behind Mabel. Mabel merely nodded confirmation, with a small sigh, shoulders drooping. “Well then…”

In a flash, Pacifica had her arms around the brunette’s midsection, lifting her off of her feet for a second or two while she spun her around, before releasing her, letting the momentum topple her onto the bed. Mabel only squeaked in surprise, having not expected it for two reasons.

Firstly, Pacifica wasn’t a very aggressive playmate, but usually more calculating and methodical. She did things a certain way. Secondly, geeze louise, had Paz been working out?! She didn’t remember her having the strength to pick her up like that!

“Paz, what the heck!” she blurted, snorting laughter.

“Oh, just wondering if I could shake you hard enough to loosen up the gunk in the gears.” In a flash, Pacifica was on her hands and knees, perched over Mabel’s prone form, hands on her wrists. Mabel squirmed, gasping aloud.

“P-Paz, what’s gotten into you?!” she asked, voice filled with excitement and trepidation. The blonde grinned, lifting one hand to spin the ballcap around, before leaning down and plucking at Mabel’s jawline with her teeth.

“If I were you,” Pacifica growled into her ear, “I’d be more worried about what’s going to get into _you._ ” The squirming that suddenly doubled beneath her told her that she was on the right path with those words. She nibbled at Mabel’s earlobe, two hands snaking up her skirt, and swiftly emerging, pulling a pair of pink and orange striped underwear with them. “Now then, we won’t be needing those…”

Mabel was uncertain what to make of this new development. Pacifica was never this forward, or so handsy! She loved it, that was for certain, but where had it all come from?! Her brain didn’t have time to try and rationalize the new behavior before there was a pair of lips on her own, and a tongue slithering its way between them.

The two girls intertwined in one another while their tongues did the same. Hands went up shirts, nails left tiny pink trails in their wake. Mabel’s senses were overwhelmed by the surprisingly masculine scent Pacifica was wearing. It was something outdoorsy, like campfires and crisp, autumn air. While the blonde left a trail of kisses on Mabel’s neck, she in turn buried her face in the shirt-clad shoulder to inhale the scent desperately.

Mabel didn’t really recall the next several minutes as anything more than a blur. She knew there was a lot of kissing on naked skin that hadn’t been naked before. She knew a lot of those kisses were right around the tops of her inner thighs, and that soon a tongue had been involved. She remembered watching, seeing a blue and white ballcap wobble around while pleasure shot up and down her body, and her imagination running wild with it. She glanced up, and for the first time, saw the mirror there, and how it had Paz’s ass on full display in those men’s shorts, and something in her mind turned that butt into her brother’s.

 _Oh fuck oh no,_ she thought, scooting back a bit, panting heavily. Pacifica looked up, confused and maybe a little hurt. Mabel instantly felt her worry about her own stuff shoved aside to console her friend.

“I, uh… you h-hit a ticklish spot,” she fibbed, pressing her fingertips together. Pacifica’s expression turned to an amused smirk.

“Well in that case, maybe it’s time we got to why you wanted to be here…” she mused, crawling up to plant a lingering kiss on the brunette’s lips. Mabel could taste herself on Paz, and her resolve melted away. Yeah, that sounded nice, why not just get to the point? What could it hurt?

There was a squeal as the blonde grabbed Mabel by the hips and spun her around, putting her on her hands and knees at the foot of the bed. Pacifica unzipped the shorts and wriggled her way free, and Mabel could only blink at what she saw; she’d gotten herself a new strap on. Flesh toned, like the last, but the shape and size were different, and it was also one of those fancy, strapless ones with the bulb that went up into her cooch, making it look a lot more natural.

Before Mabel could even think to ask about the new device, she felt it prod at her from behind, before running up along her backside. She squeaked and wiggled her rump, coaxing her playmate onwards. It was bigger, she noted, and felt even more realistic than the last one had. Having it on under the shorts, she surmised, had given it a heat not unlike one’s natural body temperature. If it could throb, it’d be indistinguishable from the real thing!

This, of course, was all pushed from her mind as it was pushed into her. She shuddered, clawing at the sheets beneath herself while inch after slow, teasing, agonizing inch was pressed past her folds, and filled her like she had never been filled. When she felt thighs touch her butt, it was everything she could do to not cry out then and there. To hell with the other strap on, _this_ was her favorite new “companion.”

Unknown to Mabel, this toy had been special ordered by Pacifica. She had taken care over the last month to mentally record the size and shape of Dipper every time they had tangled together. The curve of it, the slight twist towards the end, the specific diameter in certain places, all of it designed to resemble the dick of Dipper Pines. She’d never tell Mabel this, but for Paz? The Devil was in the details, after all, and this romp of sin was _immaculately_ detailed.

The air of the bedroom was soon filled with the musical sounds of Mabel’s whimpers and moans, to the rhythm of thighs-smacking-into-asscheeks for percussion, a constant _**whap, whap, WHAP!**_ Mabel could hardly contain herself, her mind’s eye once again running wild with the fantasies in her mind. When she dared look up at the mirror, her eyes went wide, and she found it impossible to look away.

The blue tree hat, the brim obscuring Pacifica’s face _just enough_ , the plaid shirt with its rolled up sleeves. The sensation of being filled to the brim with every thrust that was given. For all Mabel cared anymore, it wasn’t Paz back there, giving her the business. In her imagination, she was fifteen again, and what she had yearned for so desperately that summer was finally happening. Her feelings, her urges satisfied after all this time. She could hardly believe it.

“Gods, yes! Fuck me, fuck me like I always wished you would, bro!” she stammered, pushing back into the thrusts. “Oh gods, Dipper! _**Yes!**_ ”

Pacifica could hardly believe her ears as she plowed forward into the eager Pines girl. Had… had she really just said that? She hadn’t really taken it that far with her, had she?! Did she just break her friend? No, no she couldn’t have. But something had been dredged to the surface. Something buried purposefully. And, somehow, with that knowledge in mind, she could not help but push harder. She coughed once, clearing her throat as she leaned down, her teeth grazing Mabel’s ear.

“Cum for me, sis.” She had made the voice as husky and man-like as she could muster. It was far from perfect. It sounded almost nothing like Dipper at all. But apparently, it was good enough.

Mabel wailed, body twisting and squirming on the bedspread, biting into the sheets to avoid screaming too loudly. Her legs trembled, and arousal dripped down her thighs as he insides pulsated with what felt like fire, electricity, and a sugar high all at once. Her eyes rolled into her skull, fingers clutching the sheets for dear life. Pacifica gave a roll of her hips, and another muffled shriek escaped her into the surface of the bed.

It was only after a few minutes that Mabel was calmed down enough, and had enough of her breath back, to be coherent in either thought or speech. Thoughts came first, mostly of guilt and regret.

 _Oh great, now she knows! she though in a panic. Paz knows you were here thinking of your brother doin’ all this to ya, and she’ll hold it over you like the sword of… of… Damocles! That was it, yeah._ She was wrapped up in a tangle of sheets with Pacifica snuggled up to her. The blonde, if she was even fazed by Mabel’s words a few minutes ago, didn’t show it. In fact all she had done since they stopped fucking like rabbits was pull strands of hair from Mabel’s face and leave a few kisses along her jawline.

“Satisfied?” was all she asked. Mabel shyly twisted her head to look at her, and saw no malicious intent behind her eyes. Sucking on her own lower lip, she could only nod at first.

“Y-yeah,” she mumbled. Pacifica chuckled and planted a smooch on her cheek.

“Good! Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Also, uh… did I… say anything really weird out loud towards the end there? If so I’d kind of like it if-” she began, but another kiss, this time planted on her lips, silenced her.

“Mabel, Mabel, Mabel. I’m already keeping the rest of this forbidden affair secret, nobody needs to know whose name you may or may not have screamed in the moment.” The brunette’s worried, but reassured smile made Pacifica’s heart flutter a bit.

“Thanks, Paz,” she muttered, nosing under her chin.

Pacifica was content to lay there and pet her friend as the mood shifted. She had extremely intimate knowledge she could use to ruin either twin’s life at any given moment. Normally that sort of thing would thrill her to bits. Her mind for business demanded she use every weapon at her disposal when needed, and keep the rest tucked away in an armory until needed. And yet…

This was a bomb she never wanted to drop on either of them. They were both such caring, understanding people with such forbidden, taboo feelings. Feelings she may or may not have inspired in one way or another. She then realized that she too was beginning to have her own share of feelings she’d never counted on while coming up with this twisted game of sex and lies. When she had become so _greedy_.

Mabel was laying here, so trusting, so vulnerable. Dipper was the exact same way whenever he had spent a day or night at her house. And the more time she spent with each of them, the more she felt closer to each of them. In fact, she had never felt so close to anyone before this summer.

She was trying to rationalize it all while she stared up at the canopy of her bed. What was this? This wasn’t just a close companionship between friends. This was something more. In fact, if she didn’t know any better she’d say she was in love with-

_Oh, **crap.**_

_**=Mabel & Dipper=** _

The next week or so, for the twins, was increasingly awkward. Whenever they were left in the gift shop alone together for too long, there would be a long, corner-of-the-eye glance, one checking out the other, each remembering past trysts with Pacifica. More often than not, they would end up texting or calling her later, begging to meet up with her soon. Luckily for them both, she always happily obliged.

Dipper was wracked with guilt, more over what he was doing with Pacifica, still, than the turn their lovemaking had taken. Fucking Pacifica behind Mabel’s back like this, when they had agreed not to, was weighing so heavily on him that he had considered cutting her off on a dozen separate occasions. But he couldn’t do that now. He, for all intent, needed her companionship now more than ever. Nobody else could help him quash these fantasies he was having. Alone time in the shower with his hand and the memory of Pacifica dressed up as his sister wasn’t enough. He had to be there, to smell her, taste her, feel her against him while his imagination superimposed his sister over their friend. He felt horrific for it, like some sort of monster. But at the same time, Pacifica never said no. If anything, she seemed just as into it as he was, and that, somehow, bothered him even more than his urges.

Mabel, for her part, was doing just as bad. She would catch a peek of her brother in naught but a towel after a shower, or see the way he bent down for something in the gift shop, and even once or twice caught herself trying to calculate the size of his weiner in her mind’s eye when she caught sight of the front of his shorts. She was gross, but fortunately she had a rich friend, a girlfriend, maybe? She wasn’t sure yet. But she knew somebody that would indulge her. Somebody that seemed happy to, in fact just as eager to jump into this as much as she was. It was weird, but the whole danged fucking thing was weird to begin with.

To their credit, each twin’s acting skills were good enough that the other hadn’t caught onto this game of debauchery and forbidden sexual entanglement. Neither one had suspected the other since their truce was formed, and then subsequently forgotten, under the spell of a certain blonde temptress. But, it didn’t really help either of them feel less guilty. They each kept trying to figure out just how they could tell the other what had been happening, and what they would do about betraying the other’s trust.

It was especially hard when each one realized that they might be in love. Not just with Pacifica, but with one another again.

-End July-


	3. August Pt 1

_**=Pacifica=** _

At the sound of her phone buzzing for the fourth or fifth time in the last three minutes, Pacifica frowned. Which twin would it be this time? How much more was she going to have to explain this unfortunate situation to them?

The first day or two of August had been peaceful, and quiet. She hadn’t heard from either of the Pines, but at the same time was glad for the momentary lapse in her sexual conquest over them. Ever since she had gotten them into the idea of her roleplaying their respective sibling, it had almost been nonstop. What had she awakened?

However, when she had been ready to start getting back into the swing of it, her parents had surprised her, by insisting she come on the business trip they were about to go on.

“Now now, Pacifica! Spending some time on the Mudflap Factory’s family retreat will do you a spot of good. You’ve spent far too much time running around with those common Pines twins as of late,” her father stated in his usual flat, disinterested tone. “You’ll be coming with us and seeing how the company manages to handle and monetize its summer shutdown period that those blasted unions implemented.” He may have been trying to disguise his intent, but she recognized the hidden subtext there. _Stop wasting your time rubbing elbows with the lesser people, Pacifica. You should only care about money and power!_

When she tried to object on the grounds that she had no time to pack, it turned out the help had packed bags for her in advance. An entire week’s worth of luggage, piled up at the front door with her mother and father’s own assortment of bags and suitcases. As she stood outside and watched a team of paid servants load luggage into vehicles to trail them to the airport, she shared an unhappy glance with the doorman.

“Don’t worry, Miss,” he whispered comfortingly. “I’m certain the _ghost problem_ and _golf rivalry_ will stay strong over your trip.” His cheekiness was something that should be punished, or at least that’s what her parents would have said. She could only roll her eyes at him, unable to fight a grin.

“Higgins, your sense of humor will be the death of me, and then there will be a ghost problem.” He perked an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mustache.

“I pray I never have to hear that ghastly, keening wailing following me through the halls, miss. Bad enough it comes from the main staircase several times a week.” With a sniff he regained his neutral expression in the presence of the approaching Preston and Priscilla. “But honestly, young mistress. It’s only a week. You can resume your games once you’re back.”

“Yeah, yeah…” she sighed. In the next ten minutes she was in the limo, on the highway, en route to the airport the next town over. All the while texting back and forth with Dipper and Mabel, trying to explain why she couldn’t have them come over for the next week.

Each text got more frustrating to answer. Dipper was clearly beginning to panic. The poor boy needed a healthy outlet for his desires. Mabel seemed to be more upset that she couldn’t just see Pacifica on a whim for a while, but there was still a hint of desperation to her emoji use. So many frowning pigs and crying turtles at the end of each string of rushed, shorthand-typed messages.

Eventually, with a deep sigh, she sent each twin the same message.

 _‘Sorry, but it was non-negotiable with my parents. I’m already almost to the airport. I’ll be sure to see you as soon as I can when I get back. I’ll miss you, bye.’_ As soon as she had sent it to each of them, she swiftly flipped her phone over, pulled the back cover loose, and promptly plucked the battery out. It was the only way she could be certain she wouldn’t break down into tears.

_**=Mabel & Dipper=** _

Dipper frowned at his phone, staring at the string of unread messages he had just fired off in the last five minutes or so. Pacifica, gone for a week, and now she wasn’t replying to his messages. It was likely she had turned off her phone. Dammit.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, echoing the sentiment in his head. As he pitched his phone on top of his bed, Mabel could be heard tromping up the stairs before she swung open the attic door herself, marched over to her bed, and flopped face down into the pillow before screaming a few, very un-Mabel curse words. He stared until she went silent. “So, uh, what has you all worked up?”

“I, uh, nothing,” she blurted. Clearly a lie, but to her credit, he didn’t want to talk about his situation either. “You sound like you just had to sniff a whole legion of butts, though. What’s your problem?”

“Also nothing,” he spat out way too fast. They stared at one another for a beat, then each quickly looked away.

Meeting her eyes was like looking into the mirror in Pacifica’s room all over again. It made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Arousal, disgust, yearning. All over his own sister. He had never wanted to feel like that again.

For Mabel, it was the hat and shirt. Also the way his shorts seemed just a tiny bit too tight in the front, and framed things nicely. It was everything she could do to not hold his gaze, and even that lit a fire underneath her. Why, why was she so gross?! Why did she want to just jump on her bro bro and have him say forbidden things to her?!

“I’m gonna-” they both started, standing up in sync. There was a pause as each bothered to look the other’s way for a moment.

“You first.”

“No, you!”

“C’mon, ladies first, what were you going to say?”

“I… I think I’m gonna go clean out the gift shop. I’ve got some stuff jamming up the gears in my head,” Mabel finally relented, marching towards the attic door. Dipper cursed himself with each step she took, because he couldn’t help but notice that his sister had an ass that easily gave Pacifica’s a run for her money.

“Yeah, I uh, need to do some laundry, I’ll be down in a minute or two.” Mabel just nodded without turning around, quickly disappearing around the corner of the staircase. Dipper closed the door as quietly as he could, took a deep breath, and threw the deadbolt closed as his other hand grasped at his button and zipper.

_As high strung as I am, this should only TAKE a minute or two…_

===

Before she even touched the gift shop, Mabel sequestered herself in the bathroom, the sink blasting cold water as she splashed her face, over and over.

 _C’mon girl, getcher crap together!_ She toweled her face dry as she sighed, the water having sufficiently cooled her jets for the time being. _You’re lucky he’s distracted by his own problems, or he would have noticed you sizin’ up his junk through his shorts again!_ She frowned, staring at her reflection in the mirror. _That boy needs baggier pants, or some more restrictive underoos._ Her frown deepened at the thought going through her head.

 _And Mabel, you need to STOP THINKIN’ about his dong!_ She punctuated that with another splash of water, this one aimed at the mirror. She didn’t care for the sour expression her reflection was giving her.

Once sufficiently calmed down, she made her way towards the gift shop, grabbing a broom, dustpan, and roll of paper towels along the way. Thankfully, the room was devoid of customers, the Shack being closed for the day. After cranking the radio to some early 90’s boy band tunes, she started sweeping.

The gift shop was actually almost spotless, but she needed a distraction. One of her outlets for anxiety was cleaning, and a room where Dipper wasn’t? Well, that sounded just peachy right now. Perfectly fine. No bro bro with his distracting maleness, or his scent that seemed suspiciously like what Paz had been exuding that one time, or how nice his butt was, and-

 _Mabel, focus. There is an awful lot of dust under this rack of clothes!_ It was a bit of a fib to herself, but she needed that fib. Anything to get her mind off of her brother.

Imaginary dirt and dust was swept up. Shelves were emptied, dusted, and extensively reorganized several times over. Windows were polished until a couple of pixies bounced off of the glass, trying to fly through. Mabel remedied this by putting a couple of ‘I was swindled at The Mystery Shack!’ bumper stickers on the glass.

It took an hour or two, but eventually Mabel had the gift shop looking like it had never been touched by human hands. All of the t-shirts were perfectly ordered by size, and also arranged by the ROY-G-BIV gradient. Postcards were all perfectly placed, magnets organized, and wind-up toys binned in their proper spots.

She stood, triumphant, in the doorway, hands on her hips. Her face was plastered with dust where sweat had gathered in it before drying. Her hair was frazzled in some spots, and stuck slick with perspiration in others.

“There, see Mabel?” she huffed to herself, under her breath. “A couple hours of hard work, and you didn’t even feel weird about not being able to call Paz, and have her cosplay as your hot br-”

The words caught in her throat, and she heard a string of curse words go off in her head. She swiftly turned and marched off towards the living quarters of the Shack.

“Okay what else can I clean in this dilapidated pile of boards and nails.”

===

Dipper had a pile of clothing in a basket beside him as he stared at the back of the detergent bottle, brows furrowed enough that creases formed on his forehead.

 _Come on, Dipper,_ he scolded himself. _It can’t be that complicated!_ He frowned, eyes darting from bottle, to washing machine, the mountain of filthy garments, and back to the bottle again. He set the jug down, then lifted up one of his shirts. He sniffed at it, flinched, and held it away.

“Eeeuugh!” he grimaced, nose crinkled in utter disgust. “Maybe Mabel’s right, I should wash all of this more often…” He flipped it inside out, hunting down the tag to read it. He’d seen washing instructions on those lots of times, right? He’d never really read them in depth before.

“Cold water, no bleach…” He groaned. “Like colors?! I thought those didn’t run anymore! For Love God’s sake,” he moaned, wadding the shirt into a ball, which he cast on the floor.

 _Quit complaining, Dipper,_ he told himself. _Extra work means extra time spent on it. More time that you have doing something constructive. Something distracting. So you won’t think of the flounce in her hair. The way her eyes sparkle, how her backside sways while she walks…_

He frowned again, and started ripping red shirts and boxers from the mountain of wrinkled, foul smelling clothes. Once he was certain he had that pile fully formed, he turned his attention to the greens, and then next the browns, followed by blues and finally whites.

Satisfied that he had everything separated by color, he loaded the whites into the machine first, messed with the dials until adjusted to the proper settings, and started it up. As it hummed to life and started churning, the sound of socks and shirts swishing around wetly actually caused him to let out a small whoop of joy.

“Haha! And they all said it was like I would never learn how these things worked,” he declared, fist shaking in victory. “Take _that_ , doubters!”

Once the washing machine buzzed in completion later, he transferred that load to the dryer, followed by reloading and restarting the washer as the first load dried. In between cycling laundry from one machine to the next and adjusting settings, he would fold what was clean, organizing it with scrutiny.

Socks were paired together and rolled, undergarments folded accordingly. He spent a few minutes on his phone, watching videos on various ways to fold shirts, until finding one he felt he could do confidently, and began to swiftly pile up perfectly cleaned, folded clothing.

One load after another, over and over again, he steadily began to replace filthy clothing with that which was freshly laundered. He was whistling happily to himself as he folded his reds, which were the final load.

 _You know,_ he mused to himself, _I guess there’s something to be said for doing this sort of thing. This was cathartic._ He was happily humming an old BABBA song when he grasped at the last shred of red fabric he saw waiting, then did a double take.

He didn’t own anything that lacey. What was-

_Oh gods._

Held in his hand was a red triangle of lace fabric, with a thin strip of elastic at each corner, which all connected at the same point in the back. He didn’t own any thongs, let alone any underwear so red and lacey. So clearly this was Mabel’s. Immediately his mind’s eye put her in it, and a shiver ran up his spine. His sister wore thongs?! With an ass like hers, there was no way they didn’t look fantastic, either.

When he realized he was running a thumb over it fondly, he quickly stuffed it into a pocket, to later fling back on her side of the room, and hope she didn’t notice it had been misplaced. He was also beset with a new problem, which was his imagination refusing to release its hold on the mental image of Mabel wearing the skimpy underthing.

“I think my sheets and pillowcases probably need washed, too. All of them, yep, all six sets. I’m just gonna go grab those…”

===

The next few days, tensions ran high as each twin ran out of random chores to do, or even jobs to make up, to keep themselves distracted.

Dipper ended up fixing the missing S on the Mystery Shack’s sign. Mabel painted the siding on the Shack’s north side. Dipper adjusted the plumbing in the kitchen to stop the faucet from dripping. Mabel stapled a few random, taxidermied creature parts together, for new exhibits. Dipper planted some new shrubs, and Mabel scrubbed the bathrooms from top to bottom.

It was Wednesday when they officially ran out of tasks they could think of. It was a busy day at the Shack, with tourists streaming in and out at an almost constant, steady pace. Unfortunately for the twins, this also meant they were both stuck in the gift shop, working together.

For an entire day Dipper had to listen to Mabel’s peppy voice as she greeted and small-talked with customers. He would catch glimpses of her out of the corner of his eye when things slowed down for a bit; she would stretch, or bend over the counter, or lean down to pick something up off the floor. And every time he looked, he could swear she was trying to catch him looking. The second her eyes would flick his way, he would pointedly straighten something out on the shelf.

Mabel also had to endure an entire day with her brother in the same space as her. Watch him stretch and bend, his lean, wiry muscles visibly working as he stocked shelves. She could smell him whenever he walked by, that familiar scent of campfires and fall air almost mind numbing. And every time she caught herself stretching out or bending down for something, she was imagining that he was watching. With _interest_. Like _he_ would ever do such a thing!

It was only when the workday came to a close that each twin felt some glimmer of hope for relief.

“Dibs on the shower,” Dipper muttered, bolting from the room as soon as the “OPEN” sign turned to “CLOSED”. His determination to flee worried his sister; had she been weird all day? Was he upset with her?

 _I mean, Mabel, he has every right to be if he caught on._ She groaned as she climbed the stairs to the attic, mind buzzing with a combination of worry, guilt, and arousal. _I mean, you were pretty much presenting your booty to him all day long. Or flashing cleavage, sometimes. Ugh, whyyy am I so friggin gross?!_

She flopped on her bed, a heaving sigh of self resentment shuddering through her frame. She buried her face in her pillow, and took a long, deep breath to calm herself. The fresh, clean scent caught her off guard, momentarily.

 _Oh, yeah,_ she recalled. _He washed every single thing in this house that could be laundered, and isn’t my clothing._ She frowned thoughtfully, sitting up. Why had he gone through and washed everything over the course of two days?

Dipper, who never did ANY laundry, suddenly washed nearly every thing that could be run through the wash? That was very unlike him. Maybe he was a doppleganger or something now? She’d have to ask the Grunkles when they got home tonight, as they were out on the town for the day.

 _Man… what am I supposed to do until he gets out of the shower? I don’t wanna start diddlin’ myself up here. He could barge in and…_ A chill ran along her spine. _Okay as much as some of my fantasies start that way, that crud just doesn’t happen in real life._ She pouted at that thought.

_But it SHOULD, dammit…_

===

Hot water felt like a godsend.

Dipper stood under the shower head, letting the water, which was a shade light of scalding, cascade over his neck and shoulders while he ran a soapy rag over his arms and chest.

 _For god sake, man_ , his internal voice scolded, _she almost caught you staring at her HOW many times today? Who ogles their sister like that?!_ Hand balled into a fist, he thunked it against his forehead harmlessly a couple of times. _Perverts, sickos, freaks! That’s who!_

He spun in place, letting the heat of the running water wash over his chest now, rinsing the suds away. Head tilted back, he stared at the ceiling while his inner voice continued to berate him, after trying to rationalize with it.

 _It’s not like it’s nothing but lust, though,_ he had told himself. _You had a legit crush on her three years ago. You fell in LOVE with her, because of who she is. Your best friend, the person you could always count on. Always trust._ He snorted, a dry, sarcastic laugh coming up his throat like so much bile.

 _HA! You trust her, but why does she trust you? You’ve been running off to have sexual relations with a girl you promised not to form a relationship with. You betrayed her trust the second you said anything shy of_ “No” _to Pacifica._

Memories of his trysts with Pacifica bubbled to the surface of his thoughts, now, and swiftly took a turn down the path of replaying their little roleplaying moments. Good god, when she had been dressed as Mabel, sounded like her, _smelled_ like her? It was like a dream come true. He hated how much he loved it, how he had finally been able to indulge in an old, repressed fantasy.

At least, his brain hated it. His head angled back down, and clearly one piece of his anatomy felt no guilt over the situation. In fact, it seemed all too happy to throb every time he thought of how, oh, if only it _had_ been Mabel in that bedroom that first time.

“Dude,” he groused, glaring at his own erection. “Who invited you? Go away.”  
  
 _Twitch._

“No, I’m not doing that again. Not right now, and hopefully never again! I don’t wanna think about… about Mabel while I do that.”

_Throb._

“Okay, point boner, I might _want_ to, but I also _don’t_ want to, anymore.”

_Throb, twitch._

“Okay, nope. You aren’t getting me this time,” he fumed, reaching up to the handles and switching the hot water off as he cranked the cold at the same time, gradually lowering the temperature until he felt like he was standing under a natural waterfall.

The shock of the cold was slow enough that he didn’t jump or flinch, but it was certainly enough to calm things down. He sighed with relief as his arousal, both mental and physical, dissipated. Satisfied that he was clean for the moment, he shut the water off and stepped out of the bathtub, staring around the bathroom.

Normally the room was somewhat disheveled, with towels and random bits of laundry scattered around. Pill bottles and ointment tubes would have littered the border of the sink, and the mirror would have a slight film of scuzz over it. But today, that was not the case.

The mirror gleamed, the sink shone brightly. Toothbrushes and razors were neatly tucked into their respective holders. Towels were rolled and stacked neatly on a stool. Every used towel or scrap of worn clothing were piled into the hamper against the wall. He turned and glanced back at the tub, noticing the spigot, handles, and shower head had been polished. Bottles of shampoo and body wash had been organized.

Nothing was out of place. A home decor catalogue would envy the way this room was staged. A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

 _Sheesh, Mabes went whole hog on this place,_ he mused. _Why has she been so focused on cleaning like this?_ A frown suddenly overtook the brief smile. _She cleans when she’s upset. Why would she be so upset? What did I do to piss her off?_

A roll of the eyes as he studied himself in the mirror was his first reply to himself. _More like what haven’t you done? You’ve been sneaking away constantly. You’ve barely spent as much time with her as you normally do. She probably thinks you’re upset with her…_

He sighed and propped himself against the counter, opening his mouth as he leaned towards the mirror. He tilted his head this way and that, scrutinizing his teeth.

 _She should be upset with me, though. I’ve betrayed her trust, I’ve had the most wrong feelings and thoughts about her again._ Deciding his teeth were as clean as they could be for the moment, and that he lacked further distractions to keep him locked in the bathroom, he spun around to get dressed.

_Oh… oh no._

In his rush to get into the shower, he had come straight from the gift shop. The only clothing he had in the bathroom were filthy from the day of work, stuffed into the hamper. He frowned. He couldn’t just meander about the Shack in the buff, his only options were either to put on his nasty clothes again, or…

He stared at the stack of towels, glanced down at himself, and with a sigh reached over to grab one.

_It’s better than flashing Mabel, and potentially making things worse, I guess…_

===

She couldn’t take it anymore. Being stuck up here in the attic, where everything across the room reminded her of her brother. His corkboard with a bunch of cryptid sightings clipped from newspapers, along with photos of them when they were here in past summers, stared back at her. His slightly disheveled bed looked so inviting, and she could smell it-smell him-from her own bed already.

“Okay Mabel we need to go outside and go for a long, _loooong_ walk!” she announced loudly to the empty space, hopping to her feet. Three long strides, head angled down, and she was almost to the door. As she went to reach for the handle, it turned, and the door swung open, Dipper walking in and straight into her.

Her face smacked into his chest, and he steadied her with a single hand on her shoulder.

“Whoa! Look out, Mabes! Any faster and you would have bulldozed us both down the stairs,” he joked, tone a bit nervous. Why should he be that nervous about th-

Ohmygod he’s naked, was her first thought as she finally looked at him. The slight layer of fuzz on his chest, and his surprisingly broad shoulders were on full display. Her eyes darted down, following a trail of sparse, soft hair from his bellybutton to his… towel. Which he was firmly grasping in his other hand. She was certain the sigh that escaped her was half disappointed, half relieved.

“Oh, uh, yeah sorry, I forgot to come get clothes before I hopped in the shower, I guess?” he admitted, hand shifting from her shoulder to the back of his head. His hair was still a bit damp, the curls so soft looking. She wanted to drag her fingers through it, and try to mess it up, despite knowing it would always fall back into place perfectly.

“That’s… that’s okay, I mean, it’s not like you’re prancing around up here and flashing your wang at me, right?” she nervously added, taking a step back.

Each twin regarded the other as discreetly as they could manage. Mabel was imagining her fingernails dragging over his exposed skin, while he was trying to ignore the thin strip of red string that was peeking over the waistband of her skirt.

“So-” they both said in unison, before pausing. Each looked up at the other, eyes locking.

“No you-” Again, together. Dipper’s tongue nervously prodded the inside of his lower lip. Mabel chewed on the corner of her own mouth.

There was a long, daunting string of silence between them, that hung heavy in the air. Each twin kept nervously letting their eyes stray for a moment or two, then back up to the others gaze. Dipper was subtly conscious of how the front of his towel was starting to tent a bit, while Mabel was _extremely_ aware of it. He noticed how her eyes seemed unfocused, glazed over, and how he could very swiftly tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. She could see where water from his hair was running in tiny droplets over his chest.

“O-okay, uh, I’m just… gonna say something weird, and if it’s too weird, we can forget I ever said it at all? In fact, I would like it very much forgotten, if it’s too weird,” he stammered, licking his lips. Mabel made a sound of acknowledgement, head tilting as she listened. “Do… do you, maybe, I dunno, wanna have se-”

“GETOUTTATHETOWEL!”

Dipper only had enough time to turn and lock the door behind himself as Mabel’s hands clawed the towel off of his waist. The moment of embarrassment he felt was quickly squashed as he was forcibly twirled back around, Mabel wrapping her arms around his neck to yank him in close for a kiss. Their _first_ kiss.

The embrace had originally been fueled by hormones and lust. But the second each twin was pressing into the kiss, something electric passed between them. A spark, a surge of energy. It felt like it was always meant to be. When they separated, each looked into the other’s eyes.

“Did… did you feel…?” Dipper muttered. Mabel nodded, dumbfounded, before glancing down a tad.

“Oh, OH. Right, you’re all… Yeah, here, lemme make sure we match,” she started, reaching down and grabbing the hem at the bottom of her shirt. Dipper placed his hands over her wrists.

“Hey, you got to unwrap me, let me,” he offered, stepping closer, grasping her shirt from behind. She felt color rise on her cheeks as he pulled upwards, her arms lifting to let the shirt slip off with no resistance. It felt like her heart was a hummingbird, banging around inside her chest in an attempt to escape.

Dipper, in turn, felt much the same, his own cheeks flush with a crimson hue. He’d thought about it, he’d wanted it three years ago. This felt like a cruel dream that any moment now, he would awaken from. Once her shirt was over her head and off of her arms, she pulled him in and planted her lips to his again. Okay, nope, not a dream!

Her hands ran around his sides and up his back, before dragging her nails over his shoulder blades. He shuddered, and a pleased, humming chuckle rose in her throat. She repeated the action, coaxing another shudder. This time she broke the kiss to flat out giggle against his lips.

“I found a fun spot,” she murmured, and in turn he playfully blew a raspberry on her forehead. “Ack! Gross,” she whined in mock protest, pushing him back at arm’s length. He snorted with a laugh of his own, and meeting her eyes again. Each of them grinned.

“Why’s this feel so… natural?” he inquired, and Mabel’s response was only to shrug and run a finger down his chest.

“I’unno,” she admitted, eyes following her finger down, down, do-WHOA. “We-he-hell, hello to you, too!” Mabel’s fingers wrapped swiftly around stiff flesh, the grip gentle, but commanding. “You and I are about to get better acquainted over here on the bed, if you’ll just follow me!”

Not having much of a choice, Dipper followed with an awkward gait before she spun him, his back to the bed, and gave his shoulders a playful shove. He flopped backwards, eyes rolling. He was only on the bed for a few moments before he felt the telltale pressure of lips on his manhood.

“Oh h-holy fuck,” he hissed, hips lifting. Mabel made a sound of surprise and pushed his hips back down.

“Hey, watch it! You’ll put my eye out with this thing!” she teased, wiggling about.

“S-sorry, it’s… sensitive,” he noted with a frown. She grinned innocently, her eyes locking onto his before she planted her lips against it again. A vocal moan rose in his throat, and he had to bite his lip as he fought the urge to writhe. She opened her mouth, exhaling with gentle, vocal sound that became a ‘nomf’ as she popped the glans past her lips.

“Oh fuck, oh god Mabes, jeez,” he muttered, his mouth and brain losing the filter between them. “God almighty you have no idea how long I’ve wanted… oh fuck.” She was already halfway down him, her tongue gliding over his flesh expertly. He almost asked where she learned how to do that, but quickly thought better of it.

Mabel, to her credit, honestly had only done this sort of thing twice before, with one of her last boyfriends. He had told her she had a knack for it, and she decided it was all the lollipops and popsicles. And yeah, sure, wangs might not taste the same without a healthy dose of flavored lube, but the principle was the same, right? Lick it, suck it, and slobber on it until it melts. And man oh man, was her brother _melting._

Every flick and swirl of her tongue, every shift of her lips against him, and he would moan, and writhe, and the way he uttered her name. Oh man, she’d dreamed about him saying these things forever ago, and now she got to finally experience it! A small tickle in the back of her mind wanted her to ask what had changed, what made him ask if she wanted this, too, but this was not the time for that. Nope.

Dipper, meanwhile, was starting to feel somewhat guilty, but not for any of the reasons he thought he should. Watching his sister eagerly fellate him had done away with any of his guilt over his incestuous feelings, for the time being. Instead, he felt like he was the only one getting anything out of it. Sitting up, propped on one elbow, he reached down to run his fingers along her cheek. She tilted into it, eyes closed, humming appreciatively at his touch.

“H-hey, Mabes?” Her eyes fluttered open at his voice, and she was worried the nervous tone meant he was having regrets. She looked up at him, trying and failing to hide the slightly wounded look. “You… wanna spin around so I can get you while you get me? Or something, I dunno, I feel weird just… laying here, doing nothing.”

She maintained a steady pressure as her head lifted, letting the crown of his length escape with a noisy, cartoonish _POP!_ He grunted, hips rolling before his manhood slapped into his lower abdomen and twitched enthusiastically.

“Such a gentleman!” she playfully quipped, standing up and shimmying out of her skirt. His eyes locked onto that very same thong he’d washed with his own clothing a few days prior. She looked even better in it than he’d hoped. When her thumbs hooked into the skimpy waistband and flexed it outwards a couple of times, he held up a hand in protest.

“N-no!” he stammered, and she perked a brow at him. “It, uh… You look really, _really_ good in that,” he admitted. Red rose on her cheeks, threatening to match the color of the lacy, triangular, fabric patch hiding her ladybits from sight. A shy, but pleased smile curled the corners of her mouth.

“Okay then, bro bro,” she relented, climbing back up the bed, over him, and pressing her lips to his once again. “How could I say no to such a charmer?” With a bit of wiggling, she was soon on her hands and knees above him. Each knee was pressed just above a shoulder, and her hands gave way to elbows, allowing her grip to re-situate itself on Dipper’s rod. “Enjoy the view!”

As soon as her lips were on him again, his hands were running over the globes of her rump. It was better than he’d dreamed, and he could hardly believe it was right _there_. Just hovering over his face! Well, if he had his way, it wouldn’t be hovering. One hand tugged the skimpy red fabric to the side, giving way to what, as far as he was concerned, was the promised land. Hands on her hips, a lift of his head, and his tongue was inside her.

Her weight shifted swiftly, trying to get more of that sensation, and she was soon seated firmly on his face. She noticed that he throbbed even harder in response, and made mental note of it for next time. A chorus of Mabel’s went off in her head, trying to insist this might be the only time, but her subconscious laughed them off.

 _You all felt that kiss! You all feel how-OOH!-how eager that tongue is! Sod off, doubters! This is but the first of many snu-snus,_ she mentally gloated. And of course, clearly she was right. They could all tell how furiously that tongue was working. She tried to concentrate for a second, certain he was using the ‘alphabet trick’ she had seen in his browsing history once. If he was, he was going too fast, and she didn’t even have the frame of mind to bother trying to follow.

Dipper, to his credit, was indeed using the alphabet trick. But instead of spelling anything specific, he was rapidly going through the alphabet in cursive, then spelling the latin, taxonomic names of cryptids and supernatural creatures in sweeping, looping letters. It was the only thing keeping him distracted from the velvety confines of his sister’s mouth, which threatened to do him in faster than he was ready for. Of course, every few names written with his tongue were met with a very pleased wiggle of the butt on his face, so he began spelling the same few names over and over, eager to get his lover across the finish line before she shoved him over his own, and consequently off of the cliff of refractory periods beyond it.

Before either twin could get the other to finish, however, Mabel pulled her lips from Dipper’s flesh, and rolled to the side with a gasp and a shudder. Dipper frowned.

“Did, did I do something wrong? Was that not good? I-” he blurted, an inevitable string of nervous, self doubting apologies soon to spill from his lips, until Mabel’s mouth found his and silenced him. When she broke the kiss, he could do no more than blink a few times, staring up at her, and the warm, shy smile she wore.

“You didn’t do _anything_ wrong,” she informed him, shifting to straddle his midsection. “However, I feel like we’d both be happier if we were doin’-the-do when we get to the inevitable climax of this romp, agreed?” He nodded, dumbfounded. “Good. You, uh, you got any…?”

“Any…? Oh! Yeah, uh,” he stammered, groping to open his bedside table’s drawer, and fishing out a box, out of which he shook a ribbon of plastic packets, each with a circular imprint. Each one had a cartoon fruit or confection printed on it. “I, uh, pick your poison, I guess?”

“Dipper Pines, you have _flavored condoms?_ ” Mabel couldn’t help herself, she snorted. “Dare I even ask? What, were you plotting this awkward session in advance or-”

“N-no!” he cut in. “I just… I bought the first pack I grabbed off the shelf, and I’ve had them just in case.”

“In case of what?” she teased, wiggling against his hips.

“In case some girl was dumb enough to be attracted to me, I guess? Why are you making this so much more awkward, anyhow? You’re the one who yanked me out of my towel with gusto.” She stuck her tongue out at him, then regarded the selection of condoms she had to choose from. Banana seemed too much like a phallus joke, cherry would likely smell like cough syrup. Blue raspberry?! Who even made the choices for these flavors?!

She finally settled on the one with a smiling slice of cake on it, giggling as she hummed ‘Happy Birthday’ to herself, tearing the package open to reveal the white, translucent rubber beneath. Almost immediately the smell of vanilla and icing hit her. She glanced from condom to her brother, who wore a sheepish grin and could only shrug.

Temporarily dismounting him, Mabel settled in and held his length in one hand, the other carefully aligning him and the rubber before unrolling it, still giggling as she finished humming the birthday song to herself, reaching the end of the tune just as she had him fully sleeved.

“Thank god there’s no candles to blow out,” he mumbled, but she was too in the zone to make a retort this time. She swung her leg back over him, wiggled about until she felt rubber-coated flesh nudge flesh, and with one roll of her hips, the first inch or two were inside her.

They both sucked in a breath, clenching their teeth. Her hands braced on his shoulders, and his on her hips. Slowly, she let gravity take over, pulling her further down, letting him sink in bit by bit, until her backside met his lap.

“G…gonna have to start saying _younger_ brother, instead of _little_ brother, I think,” she quipped, and he responded to that with a buck of his hips. She yelped, then giggled. “What?! It was a compliment!”

“We’re _twins_ ,” he stated, giving his hips another roll. She cooed and returned the gesture, loving the full feeling. She leaned down, planting a kiss on his forehead as they shifted and rocked together.

“Never said we weren’t,” she mumbled, her tone hushed, “but I’m still older’n’you.” One hand tangled itself in her hair, gently angling her a bit to place his lips against hers. Halfway through the kiss, he wrapped his other arm around her, and with a growl flipped her over, rolling to be on top. She broke the kiss to squeal, giggling happily, and he chuckled warmly.

“Hey,” he said, staring into her eyes. She grinned up at him, one hands running her fingers through his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she noted, biting into her lower lip as his hips pressed him into her again.

“No, I mean… I _love_ you,” he reiterated, repeating the motion. She whimpered at the sensation of being refilled, over and over.

“I know what you mean, dummy,” she retorted. “Now shut up and kiss me again, dork.”

They were silent for the rest of their love making, save for the sounds of lips separating and meeting over and over, and the occasional gasp or moan. There wasn’t any major noise again until Mabel’s breathing quickened in pace.

“Oh god, oh god Dip I’m gonna- oh I’m so close please don’t stop,” she babbled, hands shifting to dig fingernails into shoulderblades, which spurred him onwards, driving himself into her with increased vigor.

“R-right there with ya, sis,” he growled, his forehead resting on hers. Each twin felt their midsection growing tighter, _tighter_ as the pace increased, until finally it became too much.

Mabel’s orgasm was only two to three seconds ahead of Dippers. Her legs viced around his waist, keeping him hilted in her, as each shuddered and rode out their tandem climax. To keep herself quiet, she yanked her brother into a feverish kiss, her lips moving almost nonstop, tongue snaking out every so often to meet his own. Only when each sibling’s orgasm had ran its course did they even slow down.

Roughly five minutes passed, each twin laying side by side, hands laced together between them as they stared at the ceiling. Each one was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, cheeks flush. Dipper’s back had tiny pink trails running from shoulder to the bottom of his ribs. Mabel’s hair was a mess.

“So…” she piped up. He hummed in acknowledgement, hand squeezing hers. “What… what made you want to ask if I wanted to…?”

“I… um.” He furrowed his brow. “Okay, um, please, _please_ don’t hate me but-”

“Paz?” she interjected. His voice caught in his throat, reduced to a croaking whimper. “Yeah, no, me too. We’re both stinkin’ deal breakers.”

“But how did you…?”

“Oh please,” she quipped. “Even Ducktecktive would figure it out eventually. You keep sneaking off for ‘overnight campouts’, I’m gone for a day and a half to shop? Then she skips town for a week and we’re on each other like squirrels in the spring.”

There was a beat of silence, and she coughed into her other hand.

“Also she _might_ have a strap on thingy that looks and feels exactly like _your_ dick, so I put two and two together there after a bit.” Dipper blushed, but couldn’t help but chuckle at the same time. She sighed heavily. “Also, I’m sorry I broke my end of the deal, ‘specially since I was the one who suggested it.”

“Yeah, I didn’t do any better though. One ‘ghost hunt’ gone X-rated and she had me wrapped around her finger.” He tilted to look at Mabel. “How did mini golf turn into you two fucking, though?”

“Lost a bet,” she admitted, shrugging. “She fucked me in the windmill.”

“No wonder she grins every time she looks at that from her window,” he mused. “Also, now her having all of your clothes makes sense.”

“That’s where they keep vanishing to?! Dangit Paz, you have a bottomless wallet, just buy your own!” she grumbled. “How much of my stuff does she have?!”

“You, uh… I know a skirt, sweater, headband and… um…” he chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “Do, do you have panties with a pig on them?”

“Well I _did,_ ” she grumbled, sitting up. “Wait… she wore them for you?!”

“Pretty sure she’s been wearing my shirts around you, so don’t get all surprised.” Mabel perked a brow at him. “Hey, if she’s trying to make me yell your name, she was probably trying to make you say mine too, yeah?”

“Okay, yeah yeah, all that aside,” she noted, using her free hand to gently punch him in the ribs.

“Ow! Hey, what was that for?!”

“You broke the deal first!” she replied, shrugging. “If anything it absolves me of responsibility for my own actions!”

“Oh what a load of pig shit,” he snorted. “You didn’t know she’d gotten to me before she got her hole-in-one.”

Each of them started sniggering at that, snuggling closer together.

“So, uh, you gonna be more angry later, or is the punch all I can expect?”

“I’d like to think you being an attentive and gentle lover makes up for it,” Mabel said matter-of-factly. He sighed with relief.

“The major question, though,” he spoke up, “is what do we do about this? Do we need to get her back, or…?”

“We’ll come up with a plan later,” Mabel quipped.

“Later?”

“Yeah,” she stated, rolling to straddle him again. “Right now it’s time for round two!”

_**=Pacifica=** _

The heir to the name Northwest was certain she had never been so bored, before. It was only halfway through the week. Text messages to and from the twins had been sparse, which was a blessing and a curse all at once. She knew the more they kept in contact, the lonelier she would feel while kept away. At the same time, the lack of contact, in of itself, was causing the same thing for different reasons.

She had taken to distracting herself by visiting the buffet area of the hotel her parents had brought her to. The hotel was part of a small, high priced luxury resort chain, so the buffet was stacked high with ludicrous amounts of obscenely expensive food.

Most of the company’s workers marveled at the fare, taking little notice as Pacifica filed in among their ranks. To them, this many steamed lobsters, this much pan fried foie gras, and so much caviar would likely constitute a year or two of their income. It did not make Pacifica feel any closer to them. If anything it made her resent her parents more.

 _They drag me out here like this is teaching me something,_ she fumed. _All they’re teaching me is that we’re spoiled rotten, and so very greedy._ That word crossing her thoughts caused a dry, scoffing laugh to escape her throat. _Oh please, Pacifica. You should know about what it’s like to be greedy, after all, you’re fucking twins back at home, because you can’t get enough of them._ She sighed.

 _And okay, maybe you’ve developed feelings for them through all of this. You came to admire Dipper’s stubbornness and playful side. You adore how Mabel sighs when she’s content in your arms, and how she can make everything into a game._ A sad smile played across her features as she plopped a piece of filet mignon onto her plate.

_You just have to make it three more days…_

It shouldn’t be too difficult, though. She could also lounge around the pool, or laze around at the spa while the help attended her. But none of them were familiar faces, the swimming pool lacked the touches of the one back at home. And she would much rather be sharing this experience with her best friends. She was certain she was about to shed a tear when her phone buzzed.

 _‘Hey girly!’_ The text was adorned with a few animal emojis, which clearly made it Mabel before she even looked at the name or number. She smiled. _‘Since the summer’s almost over, I was hoping we could maybe go out and spend an evening together when you get back?’_

 _‘Oh, yes! That would be delightful!’_ she sent back, smiling. _‘Dinner, say, Chez Couteaux?’_ It was the most expensive restaurant in Gravity Falls. Pacifica, for a time, wasn’t even certain how it stayed open, but somehow it managed. Her phone buzzed swiftly.

‘ _Oh my, pullin out the big gunz! You get a reservation and gimme the deets! Luv ya Paz! ;*’_

Pacifica felt her heart flutter at the words ‘luv ya’ and the kissy-winky-face that followed it. She bit her lower lip to stifle her grin as she pulled up the restaurant’s number in her contact list.

“Yes, hello? Ah, Armand, how are you? Yes, it’s Pacifica. I was hoping to make a reservation for when I get back! Let’s say, Tuesday next week? Six o’clock? Excellent!” She closed her phone, and swiftly texted the details to Mabel, smiling all the while.

_‘Okay, c u when ya get back! ♥♥♥’_

She sighed happily, pocketing her phone, stabbing a forkful of overpriced resort food, and lifting it to her mouth.

_**=Mabel & Dipper=** _

“Oh geeze,” Dipper frowned, staring over Mabel’s shoulder at her phone. “Chez Couteaux? Alright, if we’re pulling this off, you have to help me pay for this.”

“Hey,” Mabel said. “I”ve seen these plans work all the time in movies and TV shows!”

“No, Mabel,” he corrected her, “You’ve watched them fail, but in our case we’re banking on that.”

She retorted with a spittle-flinging raspberry. “Same difference, you poop! And you do what you can to get a reservation as close as you can to ours, I’ll help cover the cost. Even if you gotta bribe somebody.”

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed, looking up the number for the most expensive restaurant for miles. “I just hope this works…”

_**=Pacifica=** _

A few hours later, Pacifica was lounging by the pool, humming contentedly. Having a date to look forward to, when she got home, had lifted her spirits. The sound of her phone buzzing on the table next to her made her smile.

 _‘Hey, Pacifica.’_ Ooh, Dipper this time? Both twins contacting her on the same day, and so politely. She was beside herself with glee. _‘I booked us a reservation for when you get back, to show you how much I’ve appreciated our time together over the summer.’_

Uh oh. She gulped, and fired a text back swiftly.

 _‘You don’t say? And where have you gotten us a table, Dipper dear?’_ She was sweating bullets as she waited for his reply.

_‘Chez Couteaux! Tuesday night, 6:30. I hope that’s okay, they didn’t have anything else open and I even had to bribe them to get my name on the list.’_

Oh no. She frowned, worrying the inside of her cheek with her molars.

_‘Are you sure you couldn’t try to reschedule? Just for convenience sake? I might be busy on that night.’_

_‘I can’t, the Mystery Shack hits the busiest season around the anniversary of Bill’s attack. This is the last time I’ll have an evening off to do anything like this :(‘_

Crap, crap crap crap. She couldn’t figure out what to do. She couldn’t change plans with Mabel, that would raise suspicion, if Pacifica Northwest had to change reservations. She also didn’t have the heart to refuse Dipper, since he had spent his own money to try and impress her. It would destroy him. She couldn’t juggle two dinners at once, could she…?

She looked up and around as she thought. Well, why couldn’t she? She could get ahold of Armand, and have him place the two tables as far from each other as possible. She had juggled two relationships the entire summer, she could handle one more night of this.

 _‘Okay, I’ll shuffle things around, hon. Tuesday at 6:30 it is!’_ She took a deep breath, hit send, and waited. His reply was swift.

_‘That’s great! I’ll see you Tuesday night, then! Should I pick you up?’_

_‘No, I can arrive separately. I’d like to surprise you there, when I arrive, with how I’ll be dressed.’_ She hoped the little white lie was believable. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment.

_‘Oh, okay! I’ll see you there! Love you, Pacifica!’_

Her heart hammered rapidly. Oh dear, both twins now? And she truly felt the same for each of them. But they’d never forgive her when they found her out. _If_ they found her out.

_You only have to hold onto this charade a little longer, Pacifica. You can handle this._

_… I hope._

_**=Mabel & Dipper=** _

“The hook is set!” Dipper announced, and Mabel giggled with glee before pressing her lips to his cheek.

“Awesome! We should celebrate somehow!” she said. Dipper almost whimpered.

“I vote ice cream or something. Six is my limit, Mabes.” He looked over to see her pouting. “Seriously! Putting that much blood through it, that many times, that fast, it starts to feel bruised!”

“So what, is the ice cream for you our your aching wang?” she teased, and he grabbed a pillow, playfully thumping her with it.

“Let’s just get dressed and go get ice cream,” he grumped. “Your treat. Half of my earnings for the summer just went towards getting _Armand_ to pencil me in a half hour after your date begins.”

Mabel sighed wistfully. “He sounds dreamy…” She squealed as she was gently rolled, blanket and all, off of the bed and onto the floor. “Hey!”

“Don’t you go daydreaming about other guys just because I won’t put out,” Dipper jokingly scoffed, arms crossed. She pouted as she propped herself on the edge of the bed.

“Aw, I was only teasing. You know you’re the only significant-brother for me, right?” The two exchanged a glance, and each blushed.

“We crossing that threshold already?” he mused. She shrugged.

“Why not? You love me, I love you, we’re already bangin’ each other.” He snorted, and smacked her with the pillow again. “Hey! Stop that and get dressed. We’ll go get ice cream!”

“Ice cream!” he exclaimed, sitting up, then standing to get dressed.

As they each threw on clothing, they mulled over the plan. Mabel had gotten it from sitcoms and movies, yeah, but hopefully it would weasel a confession out of Pacifica. They felt it was only right to make her squirm a bit before they came clean about how they figured it out.

Tuesday night would definitely be one to remember.

-End August (Part 1)-


	4. August Pt 2

_**=Mabel & Pacifica=** _

_Okay, Pacifica. You can do this. It’s just spending time with Mabel._

She held a little black dress up against her neckline, staring at it in the mirror.

_And Dipper._

She swapped to a red dress, frowning thoughtfully.

 _Separately… at the same time_.

She swapped the dresses back and forth a few times, before groaning and chucking them to the floor of her closet. Trying to focus on her outfit for the evening was doing nothing to distract her from all of the million little what-ifs that kept flitting about in the corners of her thoughts.

What if the twins found out about her dating each of them on the same night? What if they discovered what she’d been doing the whole summer?! What if it ruined her friendship with them? Or worse, what if it ruined their friendship with each other?!

“How did I let it all get this far,” she sighed, staring at her reflection in the mirror with a frown. “This was just supposed to be me getting laid this summer. It wasn’t supposed to be complicated.”

After glaring at the dresses lying on the floor as she mulled the thought over, she shot a hand back into the clothing rack behind herself, and plucked a green dress off of the rail. She held it up to her torso, and with a small grin, settled on both her outfit and the line of thought running through her head.

“Well, Pacifica, it’s too late for the coulda-woulda-shouldas. You dug this pit, now either you find a way out of it, or accept your fate.”

===

Pacifica paced the foyer, anxiously gnawing at the knuckle of her index finger as she marched back and forth. Higgins stood by the door, frowning under his mustache as he observed Pacifica’s worried circle of travel.

“If I may be so bold, young mistress, might I suggest a more random path? I worry that you’ll soon march a groove into the floors.” With a dry chuckle and a sigh, Pacifica waved him off, shaking her head.

“Higgins, my parents would have me personally fire you, if they knew how you spoke to me,” she mused.

The butler snorted in reply. “If they knew it was in defense of their floors, they’d give me a raise.” Before either of them could break out into fits of laughter at that, the doorbell rang.

Pacifica stood up straight, smoothing out her dress and checking all of her accessories once or twice. The fabric of her dress was smooth, satiny, and sat nicely on her frame without being so tight it restricted movement. The V shape of the neckline managed to display her collarbone without revealing more than the first half inch or so of cleavage, and also gave a double-helix string of pearls someplace to settle gently, the slight golden hue of the precious beads standing out against pale skin.

Her normally shorter-stature was offset by a pair of high heels, the same color of the pearls, that seemed to be more strap than shoe. Her fingernails and toenails alike were painted to match the dress’ forest green tone. She had her hair worn down, letting it fall across her shoulders smoothly.

After the few precious seconds were spent checking over her outfit, she gave a nod to Higgins. He nodded back in reply, then opened the door with a touch of flourish. Pacifica felt her heart leap into her throat, and then immediately sink back down against her diaphragm.

Mabel was dressed to the nines, in a black dress emblazoned with a gold-sequin-and-rhinestone peacock that curved from the left shoulder to the right hip, before layers of lacy netting caused the dress to flare out as though she wore a petticoat underneath. Golden heels with closed toes were matched by a clutch of the same color, while golden bangles sat on either wrist. Her hair was done up in a bun with curls of hair sticking out at random intervals, managing a more feathery look than a haggard one.

Around her neck, Mabel wore a length of flat, metal, brass colored beads that lay flat in an angular V shape against her collarbone. Her lip gloss had a touch of glitter to it, and her nails were done in a metallic black paint with flecks of gold and silver spread throughout.

The two stared at one another for a moment, brown eyes locked on blue, until Mabel shyly cleared her throat. Pacifica had to blink rapidly to break eye contact.

“I uh, hope I’m not overdressed,” Mabel mumbled, toes turning inwards as she twisted this way and that. Pacifica quickly shook her head.

“N-no! You look…” she began, trailing off as she took the outfit in again. “Spectacular.”

“Aaaawww, why thank you,” Mabel said, striding forward to grab Pacifica in a quick hug. “You look like a few million bucks yourself! Green really is your color.”

Pacifica hugged back, glad for the chance to blush while Mabel couldn’t see her face. “Oh shush, you’re far too kind.”

Mabel chattered as they hurried out to the limousine, Pacifica only half paying attention. She could hardly believe she was going out on a date with this wonderful, mythical creature that years ago she hated with every fiber of her being. And, at the same time, she’d be attending a date with that very same girl’s brother, whom she had also loathed on their first meeting. She was so lucky, so happy, so…

 _Dishonest_. A frown overtook her features in a flash, nose scrunching, as though she could smell her own deceit. She glanced at Mabel, trying to think of what she should say as the girl went on at great length about a story, involving Waddles, ice cream, yarn, and a yeti.

 _What I’ve been doing isn’t fair to either of the twins. I don’t deserve Mabel. I don’t deserve Dipper._ She sighed and gave her head a small shake as Mabel mimed grabbing somebody in a headlock. _But I can’t ruin this evening. Not if it’s the last time I actually do get to spend any time with either of them this summer._

With a thoughtful nod to herself, she had made up her mind. She wouldn’t say anything tonight. She would instead dedicate herself to giving each twin as much attention as she could split between them, and then in a day or so, she would try to find a way to let each of them down easily. She was a horrible person for it, but, it was better than either of them learning what she actually had been doing the last two and a half months. They’d truly think she was a monster, then.

“Oooh, hey! We’re here!”

Pacifica could only blink a few times in rapid succession, before realizing the limo had come to a stop, the engine idling quietly as the driver stepped out and circled around to open the door. She hurriedly smoothed out her dress and double checked her hair and makeup in the reflection of the divider before following Mabel and stepping out of the stretched out car to look up at their chosen venue.

 _Chez Couteaux_ was a relatively new establishment in Gravity Falls, and was far too rich for most of the town’s blood. It was plainly evident by the face of the building; black, polished stone accented by gold trim. The stone was cut into abstract swirls and twists, and the trim was shaped to resemble the same kind of leaves that one would often see on an old picture frame. Columns held some of that sweeping modern architecture aloft,creating an awning of stone for the diners to walk under before entering through the revolving doors.

Revolving doors that Mabel spent the better part of thirty seconds pretending to be stuck in.

“ _Mabel!_ ” Pacifica hissed under her breath. “This is a _very high class_ establishment. Please don’t get us thrown out, I am _begging you_.”

With a resigned sigh, Mabel popped out of the revolving door with little effort at all. “Fiiine,” she relented, smoothing her outfit out and stepping up next to Pacifica with an innocent grin. “I’ll behave while we’re here.”

Pacifica quirked a brow, gazing over at her first of two dates for the evening. There was something in her tone that seemed more playful than she let on. Then again, that’s how Mabel always behaved. Maybe it was nothing.

 _But what if it’s not nothing?_ Pacifica’s face twisted into a confused, worried look. It faded away almost immediately when Mabel grabbed her hand and squeezed. She felt her frown become a confident smirk. She totally had everything under control.

Mabel, in the meantime, was shocked at the interior of the restaurant. Dimly lit, it was still easy to see how luxuriously overpriced the decor was. The carpet was a plush red thing that, even through her shoes, she could tell how soft it was. The walls had a glorious, golden-filigree-on-white patterned wallpaper that looped in a swirling, gorgeous design that repeated over and over flawlessly. The tables were wrought iron legs with tight-grained mahogany surfaces, impeccably stained and polished.

It even made Pacifica’s dining room decor seem a bit lackluster, in Mabel’s opinion.

“Ah hello, Armand,” Paz said with the utmost eloquence. “Table for two, under Northwest?”

Mabel glanced up at the maitre d’, whom she had only heard the voice of previously. He was every bit as handsome and dreamy as she had imagined. Shoulder length blonde hair. Deep blue eyes, and skin that was just the correct amount of tanned. His suit shirt was perfectly pressed, the lines crisp, and framing his broad shoulders so magnificently. His pants were a midnight black, and the cuffs didn’t hang too low or too high. The wingtip shoes he wore were perfectly cobbled for his feet, which was evident in his posture.

“Ah, yes! I believe you have the _Sakura Lounge_ reserved!” he stated, leafing through the reservation book. His voice was like honey being poured down your ears, and they had tastebuds somehow. Mabel barely even heard another word as he led them to their _private room_ that Pacifica had reserved, apparently. She was too transfixed on Armand and the sexiness he radiated.

 _Down girl_ , she told herself. _He’s dreamy, but you have Dipper now._ She grinned to herself, trying not to squeak. Yeah, Armand was hot, but Dipper was practically everything she could want out of a prospective partner. She had to remind herself to thank Paz, or at least once they were done tormenting her for the evening.

All thoughts left her mind when the papered door to their private dining space was slid open. The room was modeled to look like you were eating in a japanese garden. There was even a koi pond under the glass floor, and the walls were painted with cherry blossoms. She stared, eyes wide and glittering as Pacifica smiled softly.

“Thank you, Armand,” she said quietly, sliding him a tip before he bowed and ducked out, sliding the door closed behind himself.

“Paz, this is, well,” Mabel began, turning this way and that. “I don’t even have words for how awesome this is.” She blushed, and worried at a ring she was wearing. “Thank you for bringing me out here, this evening.”

“Oh no, thank you for joining me, Mabel!” she offered, gently kneeling at the table, which was low to the floor and surrounded by cushions. “But please, have a seat, peruse the menu.”

Mabel gladly settled onto a cushion and snapped up a menu, looking it over as she hummed a little tune to herself. Pacifica gave her menu a cursory glance, mostly to give the appearance that she hadn’t pre-selected her dish several days ago.

She had to make sure she didn’t over order and get too much food at one date, before switching to the other. So she was going to order light, and nibble at each table as opposed to getting a full meal. Especially since she suspected Mabel and Dipper both might be planning to order dessert.

The door slid open and a finely dressed server stepped in. Blonde like Armand, but thinner of build with a more forgettable face despite being attractive in his own way. Mabel rattled off her order to him, which was a considerably large sushi platter. Pacifica requested a single California roll for the time being, stating that she was going to pace herself. Their server nodded, excused himself, and they were alone again.

A few minutes passed, with polite but somewhat scattered conversation. Before long, however, Pacifica’s phone buzzed. She gave it a short glance, and noticed it was a text from Dipper.

_‘I’m here, seated in a far off corner of the main dining room? There’s a weird lion statue on a plinth.’_

Pacifica’s lips drew into a tight line as she psyched herself up. Mabel waving snapped her out of her trance.

“Yo, Earth to Paz! You feelin’ okay? You look troubled”

The Northwest heiress politely cleared her throat. “You’ll have to pardon me, Mabel. I’ve, uh, felt dehydrated lately so I’ve been upping my water intake and, um…”

“Yeah-huh?” Mabel inquired, head tilting. Pacifica was on the verge of spilling the proverbial beans, unable to believe this girl was so trusting. She groaned, but managed to pass it off as a different kind of discomfort entirely.

“I… need to excuse myself to the Lady’s Room.”

Mabel’s eyes went wide, and she tried to hide an obvious smirk. “Oooooohhh, okay yeah I getcha. Go get your splash-n-dash on, girl!”

Pacifica nodded her thanks, standing up and quietly leaving the room. With a deep, quiet breath, she started off towards the restroom. _Okay, okay you can do this, no big deal, right? He’s in the main dining room. She’s off in a private dining room. No way will the two even see one another, right?_

She turned the corner and stepped through a door into the restroom, the gleaming white brilliance of the porcelain offset by dim lighting. She walk over to a sink and dutifully washed her hands, before splashing a few small droplets onto her face. She dabbed herself dry, staring in the mirror.

 _Okay, Pacifica. You can do this. Go order at Dipper’s table, make a minute or two of small talk, and then go back to Mabel. You’re drinking lots of water, right? They won’t suspect a thing. It’s perfectly natural to have to excuse yourself politely often in these situations._ She frowned at her reflection. _Such a gross excuse, though…_

With a defeated sigh and a shrug, she stood up straight, double checked her hair and makeup, and sauntered through the door. Sticking close to the wall, she circled back around as close as she could to the entrance without Dipper noticing from his position, counted down a few seconds in her head, and started a confident strut towards his table.

_**=Dipper & Pacifica=** _

Dipper heard the telltale strut of Pacifica in heels before he saw her.

The corner he’d been seated in had a tile surround apart from the red carpet that he just could not believe was that soft. Even through the soles of his shoes, it felt so thick and plush. He was almost upset when he had been moved into a tiled corner.

He stood up and turned to face her, jaw dropping momentarily. Mabel had texted him a brief description of Paz’s outfit but holy cow, she had not done it justice. The way the dress hugged every curve, the small slit in the side that showed off more thigh than was probably necessary, how her shoes gave her just enough lift to accentuate her legs. A shiver ran along his spine as she smiled at him, moments before her eyes did an almost imperceptible scan of his outfit as well.

Somewhere, Dipper Pines, of all people, had acquired a suit. A jacket, a tie, a _pressed shirt_ and slacks. And it looked like it had been tailored specifically for him. His shoulders were well defined, the shirt hugged his chest without being too tight.

And as if that wasn’t enough, his hair was slicked back, and he was hatless. Dipper Pines _never_ went hatless. Once upon a time Pacifica would have made a comment about his birthmark. Right now, though, it somehow added to his charm.

Her heart bounced around her ribcage like a caged animal desperate for freedom.

“Pacifica, you, uh, wow.” He wrung his hands together for a moment, then stepped forward and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.  “You look absolutely stunning.”

“Speak for yourself, Pines,” she said, grasping his tie and gentle pulling him in for a peck on the lips. “Have you had a chance to see the menu yet?”

Dipper shook his head as he pulled out her seat, and then gently pressed it in once she was comfortable. Sitting across from her, he lifted his menu and began to skim the contents. Pacifica made the effort to appear to be reading hers, while simultaneously glancing over at Armand expectantly.

She had called days in advance to make sure this double-date went as smoothly as possible. As such, she had roped the maitre d’ into keeping things in order. As soon as he made eye contact with her, she gave him a curt nod. He returned it, then snapped his fingers, gesturing at Dipper and Pacifica’s table while speaking briefly to a waiter, who swiftly approached.

“Oh! Uh, perfect timing, I guess?” Dipper stammered, giving Pacifica a somewhat bewildered look. She grinned with a small shrug. “Um, yes, I think I will have… the lobster, with rosemary-garlic crushed potatoes as my side. What about you, Pacifica?”

“I think I’ll have the Neptune’s Salad-small, please-and a cocktail shrimp appetizer? And a water to drink.” She offered Dipper an apologetic shrug when he perked a brow at her choice. “I’ve been feeling dehydrated as of late.”

Meanwhile, Dipper was staring back down at the menu, eyes bulging at the salad she had ordered; baby spinach, smoked wild-caught Alaskan Salmon, and three different varieties of caviar, with a price tag that easily put a full tank of gas further out of reach, maybe even two full tanks of gas. And that was just for the _small_ salad.

“O-oh, jeez, maybe I should have opted for a smaller meal,” he mumbled, nervously fiddling with his tie for a moment. His phone gave an audible buzz from his coat’s inner pocket just then, and Pacifica perked a brow at him. “I, uh, I’m terribly sorry I’ll just check it and let whoever it is know I’m busy.”

 _‘Yo, Dipster, she find you yet or she fall in when she went to the bathroom?’_ He rolled his eyes at Mabel’s distinct lack of tact and quickly clicked a message back.

_‘Yeah, she’s here. I’m sat under the tiger-lion statue they have in one of the back corners of the main dining hall. Where’d she hide you?’_

_‘Sakura Lounge! It’s so Japanese in here, and our sushi is here so she better hurry up before I eat hers :3’_

Dipper rolled his eyes again, and quickly pocketed his phone, clearing his throat as the waiter sat two glasses of water down. He filled them from a carafe which he then left on the table. Pacifica raised hers in a toasting manner, and he obligingly tapped his glass to hers with a nervous grin.

“To one of the best summers I’ve ever spent in Gravity Falls,” he said, watching the red overtake her face, his confidence growing. “I couldn’t have thought of a better person to spend it with.”

She gave a small, short nod, and took a long sip of her water as he did the same. Setting her glass down, she cleared her throat. “I’m terribly sorry, dear, but I uh, hear the call of nature and have to-”

“Oh, no! Don’t apologize, nature calls when nature wants, right?” His smile was so sincere, so _trusting_ , she nearly felt her resolve break then and there. She stood up as steadily and calmly as she could, shot him a shaky smile, and marched away.

_**=Mabel & Pacifica=** _

“Mabel!”

The brunette girl nearly leapt out of her skin; she hadn’t heard Pacifica return. Which would have been preferable, so she wouldn’t be caught with a section of California Roll held delicately in her fingers. But, alas, the fates had conspired against her, and she was resigned to eating her _own_ sushi for the time being.

“I thought maybe you fell in!”

“So what, I leave for a few minutes to go to the restroom and you start trying to sneak food off of my plate? That’s just,” Pacifica grunted, pinching the bridge of her nose and managing a dry chuckle. “Just so, typically you. I can’t even be mad, you goofball.”

“Soooo,” she asked, “I can have this piece?” She was grinning wide, giving the tiny portion of crab, avocado, and cucumber rolled in sushi rice a playful jiggle, pinky held out as though it were a teacup. Her date merely responded with a roll of the eyes.

“Well duh, you went and touched it with your weird fingers.”

“Hey, you don’t complain about these weird fingers touchin’ _you_ ,” Mabel teased, dipping the bite in soy sauce delicately before popping it victoriously into her mouth. Other people’s food always tasted so much better than her own, and the perfectly firm-but-tender rice, creamy avocado, crisp cucumber, and flavorful crab meat seemed to all melt against her tongue gloriously. It definitely tasted better than her own food.

Pacifica, meanwhile, felt herself turning red for the umpteenth time that night. “Mabel, don’t go shouting about that sort of stuff! We are bordered on three sides by wooden panels with _paper_ for windows. It’s not exactly soundproof back here!” With a huff she resumed kneeling on her cushion, taking a large gulp of water to calm herself down. Then, taking up chopsticks, and after a moment of consideration, she snatched a tuna roll from Mabel’s platter.

“Hey!” came Mabel’s muffled disapproval. Paz blew a playful raspberry at her.

“I’m paying for it, and you ate one of mine, so get used to it,” she snarked, beaming with her own victorious smirk. Mabel gave an overblown sniff, sitting up straighter and directing her attention to her own platter, which she scooted to what she presumed would be out of Pacifica’s reach.

The two ate in relative, but companionable silence, for a few minutes. Pacifica started to get antsy, though, and began to check her phone as discreetly as possible. After fidgeting for a bit, she stood up with a stiff movement.

“I’m so very sorry, I uh, have to go use the restroom again,” she mumbled. Mabel perked an eyebrow.

“Dang girl, maybe slow it down on the water!” A cross glare was the only response she got, clearly more embarrassed than anything. “I kid, I kid! Go, before you make a puddle on the floor!”

“You’re gross,” Pacifica laughed, turning and walking back out. As soon as she was out of sight, she made her way back to Dipper.

**_=Dipper & Pacifica=_ **

She got back a mere thirty seconds before their food.

“Ooh, right on time!” she mused, plucking a shrimp from the cocktail glass, giving it a swipe through the sauce, and popping it into her mouth merrily. Dipper nodded, taking a moment to savor the smell coming from the crustacean that steamed on his own plate.

“I was starting to worry you’d gotten sucked in or something,” he teased. Pacifica groaned.

“You sound just like your sister,” she grumbled, forking a bite of her salad into her mouth. Dipper’s head whipped towards her, brow perked. _Oh shit oh shit oh shit!_ With haste, she chewed and swallowed, lamenting that she didn’t have time to savor the pop of the caviar. “I mean, it’s just something she would usually say, you know?”

“Yeah well, we did grow up together,” he said with shake of his head, gently dabbing a bite of lobster tail into his bowl of melted butter before lifting it to his lips and delicately tugging it free with his teeth. He chewed the bite slowly, methodically, admiring the way the soft-yet-firm flesh almost melted somehow. He found himself wishing he could afford this place more often, based on the first bite alone.

A few bites into her salad, Pacifica found that even the smokiness of the salmon, complimented by the brininess of the caviar, did nothing to make her feel like she was going to be able to survive the night without mishap. She frowned, and was preparing to excuse herself when the worst possible thing that could happen, happened.

“Well hey there Dip!”

_**=Mabel, Dipper, & Pacifica=** _

_Oh god NO_ ,was the only thought she could muster, frozen in place.

Why was Mabel out here?! Why had she come all the way over here?! What could she have possibly been doing outside of their private booth?!

“Oh, uh, heya, Mabel, I uh-” her brother sputtered, taking a quick swig of his water. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, uh, a date? Was looking for the lil girl’s room and got a bit turned around. Didn’t expect to see you here, I-” Mabel’s trail of thought seemed to hit a scratch on the record. “Uh, _Paz?_ ”

“I, um, saw your brother and sat down to chat?” she offered, voice squeaking. Mabel, narrowed her eyes. First at Pacifica, before glancing over at her brother.

“Who’s the salad for then?”

“Oh, you know, that’s mine too! I uh, I came alone? Just to treat myself for all the long hours at the Mystery Shack, yeah.”

“Oh please, nobody eats here alone! Who on earth did you get to come with you? Not like I’m gonna tease you for it. Who was it, Candy?”

“Mabel, you know it’s not-”

“Oh what, you swing for the other team now? Thompson isn’t your type, and I think Lee and Nate are into each other, and-”

“Mabel, who are _you_ here with?”

Instantly, Mabel’s line of teasing stopped and her accusatory glare shifted to the appearance of deer-in-headlights. Pacifica gave her a pleading gaze, head giving a slight, nigh unnoticeable shake. Mabel frowned, her shoulders slumping as she wrenched her eyes from the blonde’s.

Paz’s heart sank.

“My date is sitting with you right now,” she said flatly, scuffing one of her feet on the floor.

“Mabel, _n-_ ” was all Pacifica managed to say before Dipper scoffed.

“That seems strange, didn’t somebody make me shake her hand on the grounds that we not get involved with Pacifica?” he groused.

“Oh yeah? You still haven’t told me who your date is!” Mabel snapped. Pacifica whimpered as her head slowly shifted to let her stare at him out of her peripheral vision. He frowned the same frown Mabel had just given him. She shook her head harder.

“I’m here with Pacifica.”

_Nonononon-_

“Oh bull pucky, bro bro. Paz is the one who invited me out here to dinner tonight. Why would she go on a date with you too? Besides, didn’t you also agree to not-”

“Enough!” Pacifica half shouted. Nearby tables were staring, and she could feel the tears streaking down her face. She didn’t care about that anymore, though, and once the twins were silent and staring at her, the other tables seemed to no longer have any concern for the small drama playing out among them. “M-mabel, please sit. I… I need to talk to both of you.”

Mabel sighed, crossing her arms loosely as she shifted and sat sort of catty-cornered from both her brother and her (Paz could only presume now) soon-to-be-ex. The mere thought of that reminded her they were both likely regarding her as such. It made everything taste bitter.

“So I-ugh, oh god where do I even begin?” Pacifica said, one elbow on the table, propping up her head as she poked a fork at her salad with her other hand. She took a few, steadying deep breaths. “As I can only imagine you’ve now figured out, I’ve had a crush on each of you for awhile. And since this is your last summer before college starts, I, well, I didn’t think I’d have another chance for a long time.”

Dipper and Mabel nodded in turn, Mabel waving gently to one of the waiters, then murmuring to him after he stepped over. He nodded, then shuffled off.

“So instead of behaving like a normal person would, I figure in all of my grand, infallible, ‘I am a Northwest’ attitude, that I could get away with… this.” She gestured wide with her hands. “That I could secretly see each of you, without something like, like this ever happening.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly fair well in that department,” Dipper muttered, rolling his eyes. Pacifica and Mabel both shot cross glares at him. “What?! She didn’t.”

“I probably deserved that anyway,” Pacifica conceded. “And, while this is almost entirely my fault, I would like to at least let you know it was never meant to go this far. It was supposed to just be a fun little fling-er, well, _two_ little flings. Nothing serious!”

“Didn’t do too well there, either,” Mabel said, popping a piece of sushi into her mouth. Dipper elbowed her.

“I’m well aware of that,” Pacifica groaned, absentmindedly popping a piece of california roll into her mouth, chewing, and swallowing.

“So if it wasn’t supposed to get serious, why did you let it go on for so long?” Dipper asked. Mabel was busy stabbing a fork into his lobster and stealing a bite.

“Have you ever _met_ you two?! You’re amazing!” Pacifica aimed her fork at Dipper. “You’re patient, thoughtful, understanding. You know when to take command and when to give it up. You know how to make a girl feel like she’s the center of the universe.” She tilted the fork towards Mabel, next. “You, on the other hand, are impulsive, crazy, and addictive. You do everything in your own way and it should never work, but it does beyond all odds. You can make me feel important with just a few words.”

She sighed heavily, setting the fork down and taking a large drink of water.

“And what about the whole… role playing thing you started?” Pacifica was glad for the low light in the restaurant, as she was certain she was the same red as the carpet when Dipper asked that.

“W-well… like I said, I have a crush on each of you. Sometimes, some people like to, uh, do things with more than one person at a time, but th-they, er, don’t have the benefit of that, so they improvise?”

“Huh?” came Mabel’s clearly well thought out reply.

“She wanted to have a three way, but knew she couldn’t even suggest it, given our agreement,” Dipper explained with a hushed, impatient tone. Mabel merely nodded with a long ‘oooooh’.

“Well that and, you two _are_ brother and sister,” Pacifica tacked on, grabbing another bite of california roll. Mabel grinned at how Paz hadn’t seemed to catch onto that yet. “That kind of makes it difficult, too.

“But, anyway, that’s not the major thing at play, right now. I need to apologize to both of you. For betraying your trust, for playing you against one another in some sort of sick affair. And most of all for making you both pretend to fuck each other whenever we were together. Oh god, you must both absolutely hate me right now,” she moaned, cradling her face in her hands. “How are you so calm?! How are you not shouting at me, or-” she glanced up, only to see the Pines twins seated side by side, listening, concern etched on their faces. Her face twisted with a confused sneer. “How are you not even the slightest bit upset?!”

Mabel nodded downwards, and Pacifica’s gaze tilted accordingly. Her confused look intensified as she stared at the sight of the two hands intertwined. Dipper and Mabel’s hands were clutched together firmly. Her eyes bounced up and down, and between each twin’s face as she tried to process it.

“Wh… what does that even-?”

Mabel leaned over, resting her head on her brother’s shoulder with a soft, but bashful grin. Dipper’s head tilted to rest against hers, eyes downcast for a moment.

“I don’t understand, what does this mean?” Pacifica glanced down at her setting, and a light bulb seemed to click over her head. “And why is my sushi out here?!”

“Well, she noticed _that_ at least,” Mabel sniggered. The blonde frowned up at them both.

“What is going on?! I am so confused, I-” she began, but with a quick glance stolen at the pair’s hands again, the other bulb seemed to light up as well. “W-wait. You two?” The twins nodded. “No!” Another nod. “Since _when?!_ ”

“Last week,” Dipper confessed. Mabel confirmed this with another nod, biting at her lower lip. “Buuuut, once we were done celebrating everything,” he noted, blushing heavily, “we talked about where these feelings all originated from.”

Pacifica quirked a brow. “Oh? And you mean it’s not just me to blame for this?”

“Oh, you’re pretty responsible for it finally happening at least,” Mabel sputtered. “But, turns out, it was kind of more than that.”

_**=Mabel & Dipper=** _

Roughly a week beforehand, the twins were laying on Mabel’s bed, Dipper’s fingers trailing over her side and hips as he spooned her from behind. It was early morning, and Mabel was waking at the attention. Every time her brother’s fingertips trailed over her hipbones, she shivered a little.

“Well, g’mornin’ to you too, mister ‘I’ma-Subtly-Tickle-My-Sister-Slash-Girlfriend Awake’,” she managed through a groggy yawn. “Sleep well I take it?”

A low, throaty hum was his only response as his lips gently pressed behind her ear. “Well enough,” he breathed against her ear. “You?”

“‘m certainly not complaining,” she groaned as she stretched. “What kept you from sleeping better?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. Instantly, she rolled over and propped herself up to stare him in the eye. “What?!”

“You know better than to lie to me, young man,” she playfully chastised. “Now tell me what kept you up!”

“Mabel, I promise, it’s nothing, I-” he objected, but he got a pillow in his face for his efforts.

“I just said no lying!” she grumped.

“Ack! Fine, fine!” he laughed, batting the pillow away as she reeled up for another swipe. “I was mulling over what brought us to _this point_ ,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, and their apparent lack of clothing.

“I thought we covered that after round one, Pacifica and her little role playing games-” Mabel began, and he shook his head.

“That’s not it, though. That wouldn’t have worked if it wasn’t for… well, do you remember when we were here when we were fifteen?” he asked. Mabel nodded. “Well, that year I… I might have had this weird crush?”

“Was that the year you tried to kiss Grenda?”

“First of all, _she_ tried to kiss _me_ , and Marius thought it was hilarious because we had been drinking wine on his boat,” Dipper fired back swiftly. Mabel giggled knowingly. “Secondly, we were sixteen that year.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Now then, barring further interruptions,” he offered with a grumpy pout, and Mabel waved to allow him to continue. “The year we were _fifteen_ was the year we got smashed in Wendy’s basement, then played spin the bottle.”

“Oh yeah!” Mabel recalled excitedly, sitting up more. “Wendy got so jealous when you kissed Tambry, haha.”

“S-she did?” Dipper sat up too, obviously flustered. “ I mean, no, that’s not the point. We were all pretty far gone, being teenage, underaged drinking delinquents, and you spun the bottle and it landed on me…”

Mabel remembered that moment all too well. Dipper had been stammering and objecting to the idea of it. Kissing his own sister, what would the rest of the gang think?! He had been sweaty and awkward and such a goober, just the way she always fondly remembered him. It had made what happened next so easy. Well, that and the way everyone else had been chanting “Kiss the dork! Kiss the dork! Kiss the dork!”

Mabel had leaned forward onto her hands and knees, across the circle, only to grab his shirt in one hand and tug him forward into a kiss that she remembered tasting mostly of beer and sweat. A kiss that had gone on for nearly two or three seconds too long. Everyone else seemed to hoot and holler, Wendy eventually pushing them apart with a joking “Save it for the Attic, ya weird kids,” before laughing at her own joke.

And that was that. Nobody said anything more about it. They played for a few more spins, but then Lee and Nate kissed a little too passionately and it weirded the rest of the group out, except for Tambry, who demanded Robbie ‘pay up’.

Dipper and Mabel had nursed their first ever hangover the next morning, each of them reluctant to look at one another for too long. Mabel thought it was just because of how much their heads hurt, and that the light made it worse. Dipper, on the other hand, thought Mabel was reliving the same moment he had and regretting it.

She had _kissed him_. In front of all their friends, and then he had started kissing back. Still in front of everyone! Wendy had teased them about getting weird. And somehow, that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst of it was he wanted to do it again. He was getting more sober as the day went on, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to taste her lip gloss, feel that warmth against him again.

“I was, well, I was pretty fucked up over it for awhile,” he admitted. “That kiss sent something through me that I spent the rest of the summer trying to beat into submission, unsuccessfully. When we went to the pool that afternoon, you wore that open backed swimsuit that, yowza, Mabes, you looked _amazing_. After that day, I started to noticed little things, like how your nose wrinkles when you laugh really hard, how your dimples pop when you smile really wide, the way you tuck hair behind your ear when you’re embarrassed. I was obsessed with you.”

“I, uh, wow, bro bro…” Mabel managed to say. She felt bright red, and instinctively reached up to smooth some of her hair back.

“Yeah, just like that,” Dipper noted. She bit her lower lip.

“Okay, but, uh… can I interject?” Dipper raised a brow, likely at her use of the word interject, and she took a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one that kiss got to, you know? I felt a tingle when my lips met yours. At first I thought it was just the booze, but nope, nooooope once I was done being puky and gross that next day I realized that I still wanted to smooch you again sometime. And I tried.”

Dipper’s brow furrowed as he tried to think of her ever doing that again. It seemed to him that she was just being her usual affectionate self, planting kisses on his cheek while he was distracted. A thoughtful frown crept over his face. “Yeah, but… why?”

“Um, bruh, have you seen yourself? You might be a lanky, awkward dork but we’re twins. You’re as cute as I am for one.” He rolled his eyes at her, but she continued, undeterred. “Plus the way you smile when you get really excited about finding a new creature to learn about? The way you’re stronger than you look, but still so gentle with everyone.”

“I’m not _that_ strong,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Mabel huffed.

“I watched you wrestle the Multibear into submission with your bare hands, Dip. And apparently you did that once before, as a matter of life or death, when we were only _twelve!_ You’ve only gotten stronger since,” she demanded. Both of them sat in a thoughtful silence for a few minutes afterwards.

“So uh,” Dipper piped up, clearing his throat. “You had a crush on me that summer too?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but I figured you were too oblivious to catch on, which turns out, I was right. Plus even if you _had_ , we both know you never would have let it happen!” He opened his mouth to argue, but she whacked him with the pillow to silence his objection. “Oh no, don’t you dare suggest that you wouldn’t have been a neurotic mess at the first suggestion of us bein’ more than just sibs. I’m pretty sure that’s still gonna happen any minute now, about what we did yesterday, and will continue to do so until Paz gets back!”

“Yeah, well, this is kind of a fucked up situation Mabel. This is illegal, it’s technically wrong! So many people would be grossed out, who could we even let know about this?!” he demanded. She glared at him like he was an idiot. “What?!”

“She’s blonde and wants to watch us fuck each other, who else do _you_ think we can tell?”

Realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “But, weren’t we already going to confront her about all of it? About the lies, and everything?”

“Yeah, but we might as well let her know how we figured it out, too, doofus!” She playfully shoved him back down against the mattress. “For a genius, you sure are dumb sometimes.” She leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips. “‘swhy I love ya.”

**_=Mabel, Dipper, & Pacifica=_ **

Pacifica was, for the umpteenth time that evening, thoroughly dumbfounded.

This was why it had been so easy to coerce them into such taboo roleplaying ideas? This was why they hadn’t seemed nearly as weirded out by her as she originally suspected?

Furthermore, her meddling had gotten them to hook up?!

“Okay, so, um, I guess the cat’s out of the bag all around,” she said, and the twins nodded emphatically. “What, well, I mean, how do we proceed?”

“Well, we’re still kind of upset at you, after all,” Mabel informed her. She shrank down into her chair a bit, nudging a bite of salad around with her fork.

“However,” Dipper piped up, “we also have you to thank.”

“Thank me? For _what?_ ” she scoffed.

“Well, first of all, without your little escapades,” he explained, “neither I nor Mabel would have ever entertained… this.” He motioned briefly to their interlocked hands. “And, quite frankly, as weird as it sounds I’m so happy it happened.”

Mabel planted a kiss on his cheek. Pacifica smiled, if a bit sad, because the twins looked so perfect together.

“Okay, first of all, by way of apology,” Pacifica said, “would you at least allow me to pay for all of our meals? I mean, I was already paying for Mabel and myself, but you shouldn’t have to cover my food when I clearly owe you both so much, Dipper.”

When he opened his mouth to insist otherwise, Mabel gently kicked him in the ankle beneath the table. He grimaced at her, and she nodded once.

“That’s a start, I guess,” he relented. Another kick, sharper this time. “Ow! I mean, of course, thank you Pacifica.” He frowned at Mabel, and angled his legs away from the range of her toes.

“Secondly,” Mabel chimed in, “I say we go back to your place!”

Pacifica and Dipper both stared at her, a bit confused.

“What?”

“Yeah, what?”

“Oh come on you two, we can’t all eat at a super fancy restaurant, on a super fancy date, and then not celebrate afterwards!” she insisted, gesticulating wildly with her arms. They continued to stare. “Okay, do I have to be obvious? Paz, why do you have that mirror?”

Pacifica turned red once again. “I-it’s for making sure my outfits are-” she began, but Mabel cut her off with a raspberry.

“Wrong! You got it so you could watch us during your lil costumed romps!” Pacifica refused to look either of them in the eye, and chose to take a hefty gulp of water instead. Dipper was noticeably pink, even in the dim light. “Soooo instead of having to sub in, why not experience it from the sidelines?”

The Northwest lineage nearly ended then and there, with Pacifica almost choking on her drink, before she managed to politely-or as politely as one can- spit it back into her glass. Dipper wished he had his hat to tug over his face. Mabel waggled her eyebrows at the both of them.

“You _cannot_ be serious!” Pacifica hissed.

“I’m siding with Pacifica on this,” Dipper chimed in. Mabel huffed and crossed her arms.

“Either we all go back to Paz’s room and get our freak on, or I dance on this table right now and have us all banned for life from this place.”

Pacifica and Dipper shared a look, and Pacifica turned in her seat, motioning to a waiter.

“Check please!”

===

Higgins stood by the door, awaiting the young mistress’ return. He knew she had a double-date of sorts, and that was why she had been so nervous. He fully expected her to return home, head slung low, makeup unable to fight the streaking powers her tears would hold. He was ready to reassure that these things happened in life, sometimes, and she would be back on her feet and ready to tackle the world again in no time.

What he did not expect was Pacifica, face expressionless as both of the young Pines followed her through. He felt both eyebrows shoot up his face, then one quickly settled just as fast as it had risen.

“Ah, welcome home, young mistress. I was not, erm, anticipating you to return with this much company in tow. Shall I-” he started, but she held up a hand.

“Not a word. We’re going to my room. Tell the rest of the staff to avoid the eastern wing for the night. I want no disturbances, and you never saw either of the twins tonight, understood?” Her tone was unwavering, but quiet, nervous, and excited. The date had clearly been the opposite of what they had all anticipated.

“I-” he began once again, but she snapped her fingers.

“Not. A. Word. Understood?”

He merely nodded, and the edge of her lips curled into an anxious smile. She stalked off, the twins in step behind her, Mabel looking proud and eager, Dipper looking like a cornered deer, yet also pleasantly excited. Once they were out of earshot, the butler sniffed and started towards the servant’s quarters to pass along the orders.

“Such a greedy thing, the young mistress is…”

===

“S-so, um, uh…”

Dipper and Mabel were sitting on the bed where they had both, presumably, sat dozens of times in months past. He was rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. She was bouncing in place, full of anxious energy. Pacifica, in contrast, was sat in a nearby chair with a high back. She was leaning forward, watching intently, eyes glittering as she dug her teeth into the corner of her lower lip, fingers all worrying over one another in her lap.

“Where do we even start?” Dipper asked, glancing between Pacifica and Mabel both, as neither had seemed to register his earlier, stammered phrase. Mabel clearly took this as a sign and scooted closer, taking his wrists in her hands, lowering them to his lap as she maneuvered to instead run her fingertips along his palms.

“C’mon, Dip,” she encouraged, watching as she drew little circles on his open hands with her nails. “It’s not like we haven’t done this a couple dozen times in the last week.”

He smirked, cheeks tinging with crimson. “Yeah, but, we didn’t have an audience, for any of those instances!” he mumbled, casting a glance Pacifica’s way.

“Oh, just ignore me, it’s like I’m not even here!” she said. “I’m naught but a ghost.”

“Yeah, ignore her,” Mabel reiterated, wrapping her arms around her brother’s neck, ”and just kiss me?”

First steeling his nerves with a deep breath, Dipper leaned inwards, eyes listing shut as his head angled. Mabel met him in the middle, her lips brushing his, and just like it had been every other time, that first moment of intimate contact sent a shock through both of them. Each twin hummed against the other, before briefly separating and coming back together for a second kiss, this time more feverish than hesitant.

With a quick shove, Dipper was on his back as Mabel shifted to straddle his hips, hands tangling in his hair. Over and over, their lips crashed together, each twin’s hands gliding over the other as they sought out the now familiar spots that would send little jolts of pleasure through their sibling.

Pacifica leaned forward, head tilting as she took in the spectacle. Such passion, such intensity. She had never seen either of them so fired up by nothing more than a few simple kisses and caresses. She was, at first, jealous, but ultimately impressed. After all, she had never gotten such an intense response from either of them, but then again she seemed to feed off of their nervous energy whenever they had their romps. Seeing them like this, however? This was so much more invigorating, so much more satisfying.

“Dipperrrr,” Mabel moaned out, which seemed to snap Pacifica out of her momentary haze. She watched as Dipper’s hands cupped Mabel’s backside, giving an appreciative squeeze before his fingers inched the fabric of her dress up, up, up and out of the way. That smooth, creamy skin that Pacifica loved so much was finally momentarily exposed before being mostly hidden again, under those hands that had just revealed it.

The next few minutes were a blur to Pacifica; Mabel’s dress came off, followed by Dipper’s shirt and tie. A moment or two later, he seemed to be in naught but his boxers, and Mabel in her bra and panties. Mabel’s hips bore down against her brother’s lap, where his excitement was very clearly outlined against the fabric between the two, and rubbed to and fro against him. A hissing breath, followed by throaty growl led to his lips locking against the hollow of her collarbone, and the squeak of bliss she made? Pacifica longed to have Mabel make that noise under her own ministrations.

Another thing that Pacifica’s loss of focus on time and details had led to, was having her own fingers surprise her as they brushed over her own nethers. A tiny shudder ran up her spine as she indulged herself in the sensation. _Like the twins would mind,_ she told herself after a brief moment of hesitant embarrassment. _After all, they’re making out on your bed so you can watch. They probably expect this from you._

In truth, and unknown to Pacifica, each of the Pines had forgotten she was even there. Mabel was digging through Dipper’s pants pocket, behind his back, as he planted kisses along her shoulder. It was only once Mabel had tugged free a length of plastic packets, each with a circular imprint on it, that Pacifica realized that this was it, it was actually going to happen. She was going to get to watch the twins engage in one of the ultimate taboos, all for her viewing pleasure.

An undignified whimper cut through the momentary silence that had hung in the air, and both Dipper and Mabel turned to look at Pacifica. She was certain she looked a mess, with her hair disheveled, her dress rumpled as one hand pawed at her own breast, the other with two fingers deep into her own underthings as she ground her hips against the chair.

“S-sorry,” she huffed, legs clamping together in a sudden bout of shyness. “Y-you two just put on a very good show…”

“Yeah, well, get ready Pazmatazz,” Mabel said, tearing one of the condom packages from the ribbon in gently clenched teeth. Pacifica’s face turned a quick and haughty sort of red before Mabel cut her reply off pre-emptively. “The main event is comin’ up!”

“ _‘Pazmatazz’_?” Dipper inquired with a small snort. “The heck, Mabes?”

“I told you to never call me th-” Paz eventually began, but her voice caught in her throat as Mabel grasped the elastic hem of her brother’s shorts and with a smooth, practiced maneuver, had him in the buff, one hand wrapped around him. “N-never… uh… call…”

Mabel’s hand pumped once, twice, three times, and Dipper’s groan with each slide of her hand rose in pitch to a needy whine. A small drop of clear fluid grew at the tip of his member, and Mabel locked eyes with Pacifica as she leaned down, grinned, and softly lapped it from his flesh. He shuddered, and Pacifica whimpered despite herself.

Not once did Mabel break eye contact with Paz. Not while she placed a tender kiss on her brother’s glans. Not while her tongue slithered over the underside of his manhood. And certainly not while she unrolled the condom over him, giggling as she placed another soft kiss against the now rubber-sheathed flesh.

There was a bit of shuffling around as Mabel oriented her brother to sit on the edge of the bed, before straddling him in a reverse cowgirl position. Pacifica’s eyes seemed to glaze over as Mabel tugged her panties to one side, her other hand reaching back to cup her brother’s cheek.  She turned, planting a kiss on the other side of his face.

“I think she likes it,” she giggled, nodding towards Pacifica’s furious fingerwork. Dipper smirked, kissing the corner of her mouth as he maneuvered Mabel with his hands on her hips, hesitating for a moment.

“Can’t argue with your powers of observation, Mabes,” he chuckled. “But I think she’ll like this even more.”  With one tug down, his hips shifting up, he was inside of her. Mabel gasped and bit into her lower lip to stifle a moan. Pacifica whined and dug her fingers deeper.

Mabel’s hips rocked her in Dipper’s lap as she hummed in bliss. “Well, y-you weren’t wrong, bro-bro,” she mumbled. The two rocked in sync, and Pacifica’s eyes wandered up and down the bodies with gusto.

The way Dipper’s fingers turned small circles on Mabel’s hip bones. The way their subtle rocking seemed to pull him halfway out before they would both shift to shove him back in smoothly. The way Mabel’s breath would hitch and falter every time he kissed the spot where her neck and shoulder met one another.

Pacifica knew how it all felt, but she had never seen it before. It was an entirely different experience to watch the twins actually engaged in it, than to fantasize while watching herself in costume, in the mirror. Pangs of jealousy were drowned out by waves of pleasure, her fingers trailing up and down her slit, circling her clit, then being forced down and back into herself in an instant, over and over again. She needed more, she needed to _see more_. Without even realizing it, soon she was on her knees, one hand gently landing on Mabel’s leg.

“O-oh! Well hey there, Paz,” she giggled, “enjoying the sh-EEP.” Pacifica’s hand had trailed from knee to inner thigh, and her thumb had gently brushed over Mabel’s button, eliciting the squeak of surprise. She had rested her cheek against Mabel’s other leg, biting into her lower lip as she watched the twins fit together like perfectly cut puzzle pieces.

“I think she’s enjoying it more than we thought she would,” Dipper murmured in his sister’s ear, kissing at the back of it. He angled his hips to push their joining closer to Pacifica’s face, and the blonde didn’t budge an inch.

She was so transfixed on the show happening inches from her eyes, that she barely registered the sensation of fingers running through her hair. Or the palm resting on top of her head. She was acutely aware of the sensation of being pulled inward, though, and without question, let her mouth open as Mabel’s flesh pressed to her lips.

Mabel had always tasted sweet, with just a hint of musk and saltiness. Something, however, about being in the throes of lovemaking with her brother, had turned her nectar into ambrosia. Paz was drunk on it in a heartbeat, tongue and lips setting to work. Mabel cried out in pleasure, and Pacifica doubled her efforts, wanting that siren song to never, ever end.

Pacifica’s fingers flew in a fury against her own bits, every passing moment pushing her closer and closer to the brink. Mabel’s vocal approval of what her mouth was doing, coupled with Dipper’s own subtle, but throaty moans seemed to harmonize with one another. The way she felt Mabel’s hips shudder, and Dipper’s pistoning length tighten every few seconds, she knew they were both near their limit, and she refused to be left behind.

She lost track of the time. Had it been seconds, minutes? It was a blur, all she knew was that without warning, Mabel’s thighs squeezed against her skull and Mabel let out a shriek. Dipper tugged his sister down against his lap and shuddered, balls tightening against his body as they shifted with the pulses of his own climax. Feeling both twins cum, together, against her lips, drove Pacifica past the edge. Her legs shook with tremors, her own sounds of pleasure lost in Mabel’s thighs and crotch.

All three of them refused to move for what seemed to be an eternity. Only when Mabel relaxed her legs did Pacifica lean back and take in a sucking breath, a strand of spittle running from her lips to Mabel’s nether-regions. Dipper ran his fingertips along his sister’s thighs, while she ran her own through Pacifica’s hair. There was a passing moment where all three exchanged glances, then seemed to nod.

“Go again?” Dipper panted.

“You bet yer ass we go again!” Mabel chimed.

Pacifica could only stare. They were insatiable. A small tug of regret hit her midsection, but only when she realized what it was about did she laugh.

“I should have just suggested this in June…”

===

That night, the three of them fucked until the bed spread and sheets were in separate corners of the room. Whenever one of them would start to feel too tired, the other two would go at it until, inevitably, the one resting rejoined.

The evening was rivaled, but never quite beaten, by the next few weeks. Whether together or one at a time, Pacifica was not without the attention of the twins if she so desired it.

One night Mabel would arrive at her window, as if they were still engaged in some forbidden, secret escapade, and another Dipper would invite her to come hang out at the Shack. Sometimes they would go on dates; all three at once, or just her and one of the twins. Or sometimes, they would send her photos of themselves having a meal, or, when feeling particularly frisky, Mabel would send her lewd selfies of them both, fingers pointing to certain parts of their anatomy, all with “Wish u were here” messages attached.

It was only when she had stayed the night with both of them, in that dingy, run down attic, that she realized she might not see them again for months. Or even a whole year. She did not sleep well that night, instead choosing to stay awake and admire them both as they slept, curled up against her.

Dipper slept quietly, and she had to admit, it seemed to be the only time he ever seemed at peace. Mabel, however, sprawled haphazardly, snoring softly, but snoring all the same as she took up half of the bed all on her own, despite being the one who should need the least space. She would occasionally brush a strand of hair out of one or the others face, and plant a gentle kiss on their foreheads.

“I’m going to miss you both, so, so much…”

===

The twins’ birthday party, that year, was a loud and boisterous affair. The entire town seemed to show up, and so did a few of the strange creatures that lurked in the forest, many of which got passed off by the townsfolk as attractions of the Shack, or decorations. Pacifica was certain a few of those lawn gnomes looked almost _too_ familiar, herself. Like they’d been on the mansion grounds, before.

When the party wound down to a close, and nearly everyone had gone home, Mabel and Dipper managed to slink away with Pacifica in tow. They were all curled up as tightly as they could muster, in the big yellow chair in the Shack’s living room, watching horrible movies on public access TV. The twins seemed to make a pastime of riffing on the movies, and Pacifica could only snort with giggles at their jokes. It was only during the commercials of one movie that she cleared her throat.

“I, um, I just wanted to say, that is, I-” she stammered, unable to string words together while both of the twins looked at her. “I’m so sorry for what I did earlier this summer. To both of you. It wasn’t fair, and I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“Awww, Paz, we already knew that!” Mabel said, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. Dipper just nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, but, I wanted to say it one more time before you guys leave and, I don’t know, I’m just worried that-”

“That what?” Dipper chimed in. “That Mabel and I are going to decide we’re tired of you once we head out tomorrow morning? That we’re secretly harboring malice towards our rich girlfriend that helped us figure out where we all stood? Even if she did do it with some underhanded, conniving behavior,” he added, a teasing smirk on his face giving way to a grimace of pain. “Ow! Mabel, stop pinching!”

“Stop bein’ a butt, then! She already feels bad,” she retorted.

“No, no I deserved that, Mabel,” Pacifica noted, shrugging. “But Dipper, you’re right. About all of that.”

“Yeah, well, I think you don’t really have to worry. We’re adults. We can miss a few days of school to come visit, or there is such a thing as webcams. We’ll figure it out.” He gave her hand a loving squeeze. “Besides, we’re going to miss you just as much. I mean, I can’t spitroast Mabel on my own.”

“That was a fun Wednesday,” his sister sighed casually.

They all three broke out into giggles, before each twin grabbed Paz in a hug and then kissed her in turn.

“So… we’re going to be okay?” Paz muttered shyly. Each twin nodded.

She smiled to herself, a small thought crossing her mind.

_Maybe being greedy isn’t always so bad._

**-END-**


End file.
